


Home of the Brave

by Politzania



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: AU - mid 1800's America, American History, Dragon!Steve, F/M, Gen, Military, dragon!Bucky, with dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blacksmith and inventor Anthony Stark has convinced himself he is satisfied with his life.  A tragic accident cut his career as an aviator short, so he retreated to upstate New York and a hermit life.   He unintentionally becomes companion to a runty dragonet who is more than he seems, and it turns his life upside-down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While this fic is set in the world of Novik's Temeraire - the majority of the actors are from the MCU and will be added to the character list as future chapters are posted.

“Master Stark! You won’t believe what I found!” The clear, bright voice of his apprentice carried across the clearing. Anthony Stark put down his tools and stepped to the doorway of his workshop to see the gangly young man pelting towards him, a gunny sack slung across his back. 

“It’s a little late in the year for mushroom hunting, isn’t it, Peter?” 

“This is much better, trust me!” Pushing past his master, he set the bag gently down on the table. At first, it seemed full of nothing but leaves and moss, but then Anthony saw the smooth pebbled curve of the boy’s discovery. 

“Look, sir! A dragon’s egg!” 

“It certainly appears to be... but I’ve never seen one so small.” It was true. Even the Greyling eggs he’d helped care for during his own apprenticeship were larger than this. The coloring was strange, as well. The mottled reds and oranges resembled one of the heavyweight native eggs, but one of those would easily be three or four times again its size. “Where did you find this?” 

“A few miles northeast, while I was setting some traps. Actually, I spotted its parent first.” 

“I’m surprised you’re still in one piece, boy. You know how territorial dragons are when nesting!” Feral dragons were one reason this part of the state was still so sparsely settled, despite being closely monitored by the Adirondack covert, where they were often coaxed to interbreed with their civilized brethren. 

“It was dead,” Peter replied flatly. “Recently, too. Maybe a bear, maybe wolves. Not even enough left to tell what breed, though I’d guess a lightweight by the size. The nest was undisturbed, and still pretty warm, so I thought I’d try to salvage what I could.” 

“I see.” He had been smarter than Anthony had given him credit for. Not that he wasn’t quite bright for his age, but young men often turned foolish around dragons. “But you should have taken the egg to the covert. They’ll be able to identify it and care for it properly.” 

“I wanted to show you first, sir. Besides, we’d get there quicker with Happy.” The boy was right - the mule would allow Peter to make the round trip before nightfall. 

“Very well. Saddle up that stubborn quadruped and take the egg up there. Ask for Doctor Banner.” 

“I thought we could take the buckboard and go together, sir.” 

“No, I’ve got too much to work on at the moment, Peter. You’ll do just fine if you tell them what you told me. Banner may want you to show him where you found the egg so he can examine the nest and the remains of its parent.” 

Crestfallen, Peter nodded his head, tucking the egg back into the sack. As his apprentice left the smithy to get the mule ready for the ride, Anthony found himself thinking back to when he was that age; when a dragon’s egg really was the most exciting thing in the world. 

At fourteen years old, Anthony had been a newly-made ensign and was assigned to Hancock, a middleweight yellow reaper out of the Niagara covert. Nearly nonexistent during the War for Independence, the American Aerial Corps had grown by leaps and bounds over the subsequent three decades and now boasted a dozen coverts and nearly a hundred dragons. 

Howard Stark was a man with many fingers in many pies: a brilliant inventor, a skilled businessman and a stubborn negotiator. Everyone told Anthony he he took after his father... although he feared perhaps too closely. They had butted heads multiple times as Anthony was growing up and it hadn’t only been a sense of patriotism that led Howard to send his only son into service. It seemed they got along much better when they weren’t living in the same household. 

Regardless, Anthony had been glad to welcome his father to the covert a few years later, having risen to the rank of midwingman and faced battle. Howard Stark had been working with the American Aerial Corps as a civilian advisor. Not only did he have a sharp eye for military strategy, his knowledge of weapons manufacture was invaluable to their cause. He had come to the Niagara covert to demonstrate the capabilities of his version of the Congreve rocket. This deadly armament had been used by the British against the American forces during the battle of Queenston Heights, just a few months previous. 

Anthony had been corresponding with his father for months regarding the rockets, offering suggestions for the propellant as well as different methods for aiming and firing. He therefore assumed he would be standing right at his father’s side during the demonstration. Instead, Howard sent him to the makeshift bunker with the other observers. That seemingly dismissive decision had probably saved Anthony’s life. 

In the aftermath of the deadly misfire, Anthony racked his brains for what could have possibly gone wrong. He had plenty of opportunity to reflect, as he healed from the shrapnel wounds of the second explosion. He had run towards the launching pad after the first rocket had gone astray, hoping against hope that he could pull his father to safety. Then the world shattered around him. 

Once Anthony was cleared for duty, he requested an indefinite leave of absence to care for his mother, who had taken ill after the news of her husband’s death and the injuries her son had suffered. She was never the same woman, dying within the year of what the doctor called “melancholia”, but Anthony knew was a broken heart. 

He supposed he was technically a deserter from the Corps, but they never sent anyone after him. Anthony came to this small upstate New York town not long afterwards, working as a blacksmith.. Over the past two decades, he’d developed a reputation as a hermit who either overcharged outrageously or only asked a fee that covered his costs, seemingly at a whim. The townspeople generally left him to his own devices, which suited him just fine. It gave him more time to work on his own projects and revisit his well-read copies of De Principia Mathematica and Harmonices Mundi.

But Anthony couldn’t quite let his past be. He had made a habit of watching the dragons practice their formations over Scandaga Lake each afternoon, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. When he got his glass out, sometimes he could even read the signal flags. The signals themselves had changed since he was in service, although perhaps not as much as the one observing them. He knew that Peter had done the right thing by rescuing the dragon egg; Anthony only wished he hadn’t brought it to him first. 

Anthony spent the afternoon refining his design for the latest iteration of the water wheel he had running in the creek next to his workshop. It currently provided the power to run the bellows for the forge, a lathe and a drill press (along with his personal favorite bit of machinery, a coffee grinder), but he thought it could be more efficient. He was enjoying a hot cup of liquid ambrosia when Peter returned, just before nightfall. 

“What’s in the bag, my apprentice? Did you check your traps on the trip back?” 

“No, sir. It’s the egg. Doctor Banner examined it. He believes it’s a cross between two lightweight natives and probably the result of the dam’s first mating, due to its size. However, he isn’t sure it will be a successful hatching. Listen.” Peter found a sheet of paper and rolled it into a cone. He pressed the base of the cone to the shell, then gestured for Anthony to place his ear on the tip. 

Anthony remembered this trick from his younger years, but was dismayed to hear the irregular beat of the developing dragonet’s heart. “Why didn’t they keep the egg? Surely Banner could offer better care....” 

“The covert has a half-dozen eggs in various stages of development right now, with barely enough recruits to watch over them. So the doctor said I could keep this one, since I found it.” Peter responded, a touch of defiance in his voice. “I’ll still do everything you ask of me, sir. Just... .let me keep Hopkins ...” 

“Hopkins? You’ve named the creature already?” 

“Well, yes. I read through the current dragon registry while I was at the covert. A lot of great statesmen’s names were taken already, but Stephen Hopkins was a governor of my home state and signed the Declaration of Independence.” 

“It’s a fine name, Peter. And I’m sure you’ll take excellent care of him... or her, as the case may be.” 

“Oh - I hadn’t thought that Hopkins might be a girl dragon.” Peter replied, a bit disconcerted. 

“Well, it does happen, about half the time, I believe.” Anthony couldn’t resist gently teasing the boy, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “Let’s fill a basket with ashes, nestle the egg in it and place it near the forge. Did the doctor have any idea when Hopkins might hatch?” 

“He said it would probably be another few weeks.” 

The boy absolutely doted on the dragon egg. Anthony suspected poor Hopkins would come out of the egg dizzy, based on how often Peter turned the basket, making sure every side was kept toasty warm next to the forge. The heartbeat of the hatchling grew stronger, though still somewhat irregular; which had them both concerned. 

Peter was constantly talking to the egg, having learned that dragons acquired language during the last phase of their development. Anthony suggested that he read his school books aloud; killing two birds with one stone, as Peter was apt to overlook his studies in favor of the latest project or idea that caught his fancy. Now his apprentice spent at least an hour every evening, book open on his lap, sitting next to the basket. Anthony found it soothing to listen to the young man’s voice. 

Despite mother henning over his new charge-to-be, Peter kept to his promise, completing all the chores Anthony assigned to him. This included a monthly trip to Saratoga Springs, where not only could Peter catch up with his Aunt May, his only remaining blood relative, but take care of business relating to managing the Stark estate. Anthony felt no desire to return to his hometown, so on Peter’s sixteenth birthday, Anthony had him deputized as Anthony’s legal representative, and he carried out his master’s wishes faithfully and well. 

While Anthony was determined to let his apprentice care for the egg, he’d found himself occasionally speaking to it when Peter was out and about; to fill the silence, if nothing else. It was important for the creature to hear multiple voices. Sometimes it clarified his own thinking, to have to explain a problem he was struggling with. And if he occasionally sang songs from his own childhood to the egg, who was the wiser? But he wasn’t in any way ready for it to actually hatch while Peter was gone. 

“No, no, no, no! Hopkins! You have to wait! Peter’s not here!” He briefly considered gluing the crack back together, before coming to his senses. Once a dragon started pushing its way out of the shell, it had to finish before it ran out of energy, or it would perish. It would need to be fed as soon as it emerged from its shell, and that feeding was traditionally how the life-long bond between the dragon and its companion was formed. 

Anthony looked in the spring house - there was a brace of rabbits Peter had caught in his traps just that morning, waiting to be dressed. He gutted them both and spilled their entrails into a bowl. A perfect first meal for a dragon, even if it left him personally a bit green. Anthony set the carcasses aside, just in case they would be needed to feed the hatchling as well. 

He then pulled the egg from the basket, brushing the ashes away and placing it on the table in a large bowl. The crack had lengthened to nearly the full height of the egg, and he could hear the dragonet scrabbling at the shell, setting it to gently rocking. “It’s all right, little one. Just keep at it.” Anthony found himself murmuring encouragement. A piece of the shell fell away, and a startlingly blue eye peered out at him. “Well, hello there!” He heard a quiet half-chirp, half-click in reply. 

Anthony continued talking softly, as much to calm himself as the hatchling. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Bonding with a newly-hatched dragon was a young man’s game. Maybe if he just left the bowl of offal next to the basket, the dragon would find it and feed. He could hide out of sight and wait until Peter arrived. His apprentice was the one who deserved to have a faithful friend who would watch over him, always be by his side. 

But it was too late. The shell was nearly fractured now, the hatchling inside heaving at the walls of its sanctuary-turned-prison. Claws of midnight blue had worked their way through one of the cracks, reaching out to explore the new world. “Come on, Hopkins. Just a little bit more.” The dragonet responded to the encouragement with sounds of impatience as it shifted and shoved. Now a pointed snout, nostrils flaring, poked out from within the shell. Anthony reached out a finger, despite himself, to gently stroke the creature’s cheek and heard a soft trill in response. 

The dragonet withdrew its head and claws to make one final push to break free. The shell fell away, and Anthony got his first look at the dragonet. It seemed nearly all wing, fragile and delicate, shiny with the remains of the fluid in which it had been living. Anthony wet a cloth and carefully wiped the sticky mess from the hatchling. He knew this was all a mistake, it should be Peter here, not him, but he felt drawn to the helpless creature in spite of himself. 

Its body was an dark blue, blending to red on its wings. No ridges along its spine, nor horns on its head, but those might come later. Its wings, translucent as parchment with white markings along the edges, seemed two or three sizes too large for the hatchling. Perhaps it was part longwing, or whatever the Native equivalent was. 

Hopkins’ eyes were bright and alert, with little of the wariness one usually sees in wild animals. It (no, apparently a “he” after all, Anthony noticed, while cleaning its underbelly) continued to grumble softly as Tony patted him dry. “Feel better, little one?” And he was indeed little, barely the size of a cat, and practically skin and bones. 

“How about something to eat?” Anthony pulled what appeared to be a liver from the bowl, and offered it to Hopkins. The dragonet eyed it suspiciously, sniffed, then snapped it up, devouring the organ in two bites. He looked at Anthony, head tilted to one side. 

“Was that tasty, Hopkins? Yes, your name is Hopkins, Stephen Hopkins. I’m Anthony. Anthony Stark. Let me get you some more.” He proceeded to hand feed the hatchling most of the rest of the offal, speaking softly to him the whole while. Hopkins replied with chirps and warbles, bumping his head into Anthony when he wasn’t responding quickly enough. 

Hopkins’ belly was bulging when he finally turned his nose away, blinking sleepily. The hatchling started to shiver, and Anthony picked him up, intending to tuck him back in the basket with some clean cloths and set it back near the forge. But instead, the dragonet climbed up into his sleeve and oh, those claws were sharp! Hopkins poked his nose out of Anthony’s collar and gave him such a curious look that he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Let’s get you situated, you scamp!” He reached into his shirt, gently gathering and repositioning the creature more comfortably for them both, supporting the small, frail body in the crook of his arm. Anthony moved to a more comfortable chair, grabbing a blanket to wrap around his shoulders to ward off any possible chill. Hopkins lay laxly against him, making a soft purr that soon became a snore. What had he gotten himself into, Anthony pondered as he looked out across the clearing to the hills in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late afternoon, and shadows were stretching across the room when Anthony awoke from a light doze. He heard the door hinges squeak, then Peter moaned “Oh no.....” He must have seen the remains of the egg on the table. 

“It’s all right, Peter. The hatching went just fine and our little friend is here with me.” Anthony rose from the chair, cradling the dragonet, who was just barely awake. He felt a wave of regret and shame wash over him. He should give Hopkins up, let Peter form the bond with the hatchling. The words of the Bard came to mind: ‘If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.’ 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. You were supposed to be here, not me. But wait. Maybe there’s time. He’s only eaten once. Take the rabbit there on the table and cut it up. I’ll put Hopkins back in his egg and you can pick him up, talk to him and feed him. I’m sure he knows your voice much better than mine....” 

“No, sir.” Peter interrupted, with a strange mix of resignation and amusement on his face. “I think that dragon is right where he needs to be. You did say ‘he’, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, definitely a boy dragon. And he seems to like the name Hopkins.” At the sound of his name, the hatchling raised his head and chirped. 

At Peter’s approach, Hopkins stretched out his neck and hissed at him, to Anthony’s chagrin. “Now, now, Hopkins, this is Peter. Peter Parker. He's a friend.” 

“Come now, Hopkins. You know me," his apprentice added. "I’m the one who’s been reading to you all this time. By now I imagine you love Shakespeare as much as I do. ‘Come not between the dragon, and his wrath.’ Does that sound familiar?” The dragonet first cocked his head at the sound of Peter’s voice, then relaxed, letting the boy stroke under his chin. Hopkins then looked back at Anthony, and made a questioning warble. 

“Yes, little one. He’s very nice and will help me take care of you. Would you like to try your wings out?” Anthony stepped outside into the dooryard and gently set Hopkins down on the ground. The dragon looked around curiously, then stretched out his enormous wings. He flapped them once, sneezing at the dust the movement had kicked up. 

The force of the sneeze, along with a reflexive jerk of his wings, lifted the dragonet off his front feet. He then pushed off with his hind legs and was aloft, rising quickly into the sky. Hopkins flew a few tentative circles above their heads, then soared off over the roof of the workshop. 

“Sir, was that wise? What if he doesn’t come back?” Peter asked in a worried tone. 

“If he’s meant to return to us, he will.” While Anthony was reasonably certain Hopkins would come back -- for another meal if nothing else -- it was possible that the dragonet would turn out to be truly feral after all, preferring to make his own way in the world. A small, selfish, unworthy part of Anthony hoped that would happen, as he knew his life would be forever changed otherwise. But after a few moments, there was a familiar trill, and Hopkins reappeared, making a rather awkward landing in front of them. 

Anthony picked up the dragonet, whose sides were heaving from the exertion of his first flight. So small and fragile, but such spirit, he thought. “You did splendidly, Hopkins. I imagine you’ve worked up quite the appetite after that, haven’t you?” The hatchling hummed and bobbed his head, as if he were answering the question. 

Peter started cutting up the rabbits, placing half the pieces in an iron skillet on the stove, the other half in a bowl for Hopkins. This time, the dragonet mostly fed himself, picking up the chunks clumsily with his front claws. As Peter fried up the remaining meat for their dinner, Anthony asked him about his trip to Saratoga Springs. Sharing the latest gossip from his aunt, Peter gestured towards a dozen pots of preserves that she had pressed upon him. 

“Aunt May wants to make sure we bachelors don’t get scurvy over the winter,” he laughed. It was a generous gift from a widow of modest means; Anthony made a mental note to respond in kind and have a load of coal delivered to her. Peter then nodded towards the papers he brought from the lawyers. “There’s something less sweet for you to sink your teeth into over the next few weeks.” Howard Stark had left a small fortune to his only son, and wise investments had kept it alive and healthy. But Anthony got little joy from such prosperity, withdrawing just enough to support his simple lifestyle. 

After eating, Hopkins moved to sit in Anthony’s lap; he intercepted the dragon to clean the remains of his dinner off first. “No need to add blood to the collection of stains my trousers have already accumulated, little one,” Anthony said fondly. In reply, Hopkins chirped and rubbed his head under Anthony’s chin with affection. Against his better judgement, he found himself growing very fond of this vulnerable, yet fearless creature. 

“Should we write to the covert to let them know about the successful hatching, sir?” Peter asked. “I imagine Doctor Banner would be pleased. Or maybe we should take Hopkins there himself, so the doctor can look him over?” The request made sense, but Anthony was hesitant. He’d left that world behind long ago; he didn’t think he would fit in even briefly, not after so many years. 

“We’ll see,” he replied. 

He was able to put Peter off for the better part of a week, but then Hopkins took a turn for the worse one night; waking them with his gasping and wheezing. Anthony had never felt so helpless. All he could do was hold the dragonet close to try to keep him warm and calm. After what seemed like hours, Hopkins’ breathing returned to normal and Anthony was finally able to sleep again. This scare was enough to convince him that any issues he might have with the aviators (or vice versa) meant nothing when there was a chance to help Hopkins. 

“We’re taking a little trip today, my dear. You’re going to meet new people and maybe some of your big brothers and sisters. How does that sound?” Hopkins cocked his head and made a dubious trill. He’d gained several inches in length and nearly weighed a stone, due in all likelihood to eating nearly his body’s weight in meat every other day. Daily flights were strengthening his muscles as well, but Hopkins still hadn’t spoken a word. While Hopkins seemed to understand what was said to him well enough, using various sounds and body language to communicate his wishes, Anthony was starting to wonder if he was capable of speech. 

Peter had already hitched Happy up to the buckboard and Anthony tucked Hopkins into his cloak, as the weather had turned cool, damp and overcast. It took them the better part of an hour to reach their destination over the indifferently-maintained road. At the turnoff to the covert, they met a young man, probably stationed as sentry, who asked after their business. 

“I am Peter Parker. I was here a few weeks ago with a feral dragon egg. The egg has since hatched, and my master and I brought the dragonet to be examined by Doctor Banner.” Anthony unfastened his cloak just enough to let Hopkins peer out at their interrogator.

“Well, this is irregular, to say the least,” the sentry stated. “Wait here while I contact the Commodore.” He turned to hoist the signal flags. 

“I was under the impression aviators cared about dragons. This little one has been ill and has probably taken a chill during our hour-long ride.” Anthony replied stiffly. “May we simply proceed?” He just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. 

The sentry reluctantly motioned for them to continue up to the collection of buildings. Anthony let Peter lead him to the infirmary and Doctor Banner. Serving double duty as medical officer for both man and dragon, he was about Anthony’s own age and solidly built, but with a kind face and gentle voice.

“Master Parker - a pleasure to see you again. I trust you have news for me?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir! Doctor Banner, this is Anthony Stark. He’s a blacksmith from over near Northville and I’m his apprentice,” Peter replied. 

“And this is Hopkins.” Anthony placed his charge on the table, where he stretched like a cat and eyed the doctor warily. “Hopkins, this is Doctor Banner. He knows a great deal about dragons. He’s going to make sure you’re as fit as a fiddle.” Banner was already looking the dragonet over carefully. 

“Hello there. Hopkins. And how old are you?” 

“He hatched about a week ago.” Anthony replied. “He’s been eating well and taken a couple of flights, but had some sort of fit last night and could scarcely catch his breath.” 

“Is that so? Well, let me take a look.” He continued to speak directly to his patient. “I’d like to examine you now, Hopkins. May I see your wings, please?” The dragonet obediently spread them wide. “That’s quite a span you have there! Let me get my tape.” He measured Hopkins’ wingspan, as well as his length, nose to tail, carefully jotting down each number. Banner then wrapped the tape around the dragonet’s chest at the tip of the breastbone, then around his belly, just behind the ribs. He finished by measuring the length of each leg and examining his claws.

“I’ll calculate your proportions to help me figure out your parentage, Hopkins. Your size and coloring suggests a Native lightweight cross, but your wingspan seems outsized for those breeds. Let me look at your eyes.” Banner picked up the kerosene lamp and brought it close to Hopkins’ face. 

“Bright. Hot.” Hopkins said, flinching away. 

“By God, so you can talk after all!” Anthony exclaimed as Peter gasped in surprise.

“Yes,” Hopkins replied, bashfully. His voice was surprisingly deep to come from such a small body.

“Why haven’t you spoken to us before?” 

“Didn’t need to. You know me.” Anthony supposed that was true, as Hopkins had communicated perfectly well with them without saying a word. But it was wonderful to know that he could speak, could hold conversations with them, and the potential that implied. The intelligence of dragons varied as much as with humans; Anthony held out a fond hope that Hopkins was on the higher end of that range. 

One of the books Peter had read to Hopkins from his own collection was the memoir of Captain Will Laurence of the British Aerial Corps. His dragon, Temeraire was a Chinese breed and incredibly intelligent and articulate, as well as strong and brave. Perhaps it was folly to think that his frail, mixed-breed, practically feral dragon could ever aspire to such accomplishments, but Anthony was never one to shy away from a challenge.

Doctor Banner completed his examination, listening to Hopkins’ chest with a stethoscope. “His heartbeat is much improved, but there is still some minor irregularity. I also hear some congestion in his lungs. Let me put something together to help treat that. In the meanwhile, feel free to look around the covert.” 

“Oh, yes!” Hopkins turned to Anthony. “Please?” He could hardly deny the dragonet a chance to meet some of his brethren, even if it were the last thing Anthony himself wanted to do. Peter was nearly as eager, if better at hiding his enthusiasm. So Anthony picked Hopkins up from the table, tucking him once more into his cloak. 

They stepped out into the commons, squinting at a sudden ray of sunlight. “Anthony Stark, is that you? As I live and breathe....” An older man was striding slowly across the commons, limping, with a crutch under one arm. 

“Captain Sousa?” He hadn’t expected to recognize - or be recognized by - anyone here. Anthony resisted the urge to flee, instead going to meet his former commander, Peter in tow. 

“Commodore Sousa, now. Who is your companion?" he asked, nodding at Peter.

“Sir, may I present my apprentice, Peter Parker. Peter, this is Commodore Daniel Sousa, of the United States Aerial Corps. We knew each other well when I was your age,” Anthony felt Hopkins wriggle in his grasp, then poke his head out from between the folds of his cloak. 

Sousa started in surprise, then looked both Anthony and the dragonet over with a critical, but cordial eye. “I assume your companion is the happy result of the feral egg that Banner told me about. Have you taken him to the good doctor yet?” 

“Yes, and Banner thought him well enough, except for some breathing issues and a minor heart condition. He is preparing a treatment as we speak. This is Hopkins, by the way. Hopkins, this is Commodore Sousa. He is captain of a fine, big dragon named Hancock.” Anthony turned back to the commodore. “Sir, may I ask after her health?” 

“Hancock is well. We are arrived from the Long Island covert just this morning. Perhaps you can introduce us both around?” Sousa must have assumed that Anthony had returned to service with the Corps. 

“Oh, no... I’m not a ... not part of.... I’m sorry, sir. I can’t be of assistance,” he stuttered. 

“Ah, then you and your dragon aren’t members of this covert?” Sousa raised an eyebrow. It was practically unheard of for someone outside the aviator community to be companion to a dragon. Not only was there the long-standing prejudice against dragons held by the general populace, but also with dragons being such an immense asset to the military, any and all eggs were carefully managed, with planned matches between dragon and aviator established months, if not years in advance. Anthony started to explain, but was interrupted by Hopkins. 

“Could we? Train here, I mean?” The dragon pleaded, staring up at Anthony. “I want to learn how to fight. Like in the books Peter reads to me.” Peter had continued reading aloud to Hopkins even after he hatched, and both of them were quite fond of military histories.

“Perhaps once you’re a little larger.” Sousa broke in. “Although you may be more suited to messenger work. May I see your wings?” Anthony held out his arm for Hopkins to perch upon, so he could extend his wings fully. “Oh, yes -- you’d make a fine long-distance courier! It’s a very important job,” he assured the little dragon, who looked downcast. 

“I’d rather help keep my friends safe by defending our country in battle,” Hopkins replied, with conviction. “May I go meet some of the other dragons now?” 

“Certainly. Let me take you all to Hancock. She’ll be quite pleased to see you again, Stark.” 

They walked along a path that took them away from the buildings, Hopkins eagerly looking all around. They stopped at the first clearing, inhabited by a yellowish brown dragon, dozing in the sun. 

“Hancock, dear, wake up. We have visitors, one of whom is an old friend.” Sousa called to his companion. The dragon raised her head and turned to look at the men. 

“Why, is that young Stark?” she rumbled in surprise. “So good to see you again, my boy; you’re the spitting image of your father. How long has it been? Oh, I see you have a dragon of your own now... how wonderful!” Anthony recalled that Hancock was a bit flighty, but a skilled and valiant warrior who bore the scars of multiple battles. 

“Yes, it’s me, Hancock. And it’s good to see you as well. It’s been quite some time. May I introduce you to Hopkins?” The dragonet ducked his head; bashful, yet intensely curious at meeting another of his kind.

“How old are you?” he asked of Hancock. “And how do you know my Anthony?” Anthony started to apologize for his charge’s lack of manners, but Hancock simply chuckled. 

“I am nearly fifty years old, little one. You could be one of my great-great-grandchildren. Did you know that your captain served with me some years ago? He was very brave, even as a young man.” 

“Of course he was.” Hopkins agreed. Their comments - especially Hancock’s reference to him as ‘captain’ made Anthony flush slightly. He would have to explain himself to Sousa before the matter got out of hand. “Well, I hope you’ll be joining us for training soon, my dear,” Hancock continued. “Lafayette and his captain will be looking to establish a new formation come springtime.” 

“I’d like that. When I grow up big and strong, I will fight against anyone who wants to hurt my friends. Are there many battles happening now?” 

“By the grace of God, no,” stated Sousa. “We are enjoying the fruits of peace, at least in this part of the country. We still train, but face few challenges nowadays. Master Parker, why don’t you take Hopkins back to Doctor Banner to see if his medicine is ready. I’d like to talk with my old friend for a few minutes.”


	3. Chapter 3

Peter took Hopkins back to the infirmary, and Anthony walked with Sousa back to the officers’ quarters. He suspected he knew what his former captain wanted to discuss, and was thankful for the privacy being offered. Sousa shut the door to the study behind them and settled in a comfortable chair, motioning for Anthony to be seated. 

“So, Stark... tell me about Hopkins.” 

“Believe me, sir, harnessing a dragon was the furthest thing from my mind. I fully expected and intended for my apprentice to bond with the hatchling, if it survived. Banner had questioned whether it would. Unfortunately, Peter was away when Hopkins decided to make his appearance, and I was forced to step in. In all honesty, the boy returned soon enough after the hatching to have attempted a bond, as Hopkins had only fed once, but Peter refused.” Anthony explained.

Sousa nodded thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you return to the service after your mother’s passing?” Anthony was taken aback at both the change in topic and the rather blunt question. 

“The fighting was over, for the most part and I wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. I assumed no one would miss me.” 

“That wasn’t true, “ Sousa started; but Anthony interrupted.

“After the damage, the destruction caused by the rocket test, I realized everyone was better off if I left and found a quiet spot of my own. Then I couldn’t hurt anyone else again.” 

“The accident wasn’t your fault. Nor was it your father’s." Sousa responded kindly. "We determined that the design and execution were flawless; it was the materials that caused the failure. The metal for the bodies of the rockets was defective.” 

“I should have caught that. Instead, my father paid the price.” 

“Your self-recrimination cannot bring him back, Anthony. I want you to know that no one in the Corps ever thought you or your father responsible for the accident. You were welcome to return to service after you recovered ... and you still are just as welcome.” 

Stark smiled ruefully, shaking his head. He imagined the cool reception he would get from his former colleagues who had risen through the ranks, perhaps waiting years for the chance at harnessing a dragon. Of course, from a military standpoint, Hopkins was no great prize; he might not even grow big enough to be a courier. 

That was assuming the dragonet lived to maturity. Late season hatchlings often struggled through their first winter, and Hopkins was in poor health, to boot. At least he could make sure his charge had plenty to eat; he’d have to expand the stable to house additional livestock. Chickens to start, then perhaps sheep or pigs, once he grew a little larger.... 

“Stark?” Sousa broke into his reverie, with a small laugh. “Most boys grow out of getting lost in their own thoughts, but then again most boys aren’t as ingenious and inventive as you. We still use some of your formation patterns, you know.” He glanced up to the mantel clock. “Time seems to have slipped away for both of us. May I invite you and Peter to dinner?” 

Anthony demurred, saying they had to meet with Banner before riding an hour back home. In reality, he’d had nearly all the human contact he could handle for the day, and couldn’t quite stomach the idea of facing a group of strangers. He returned to the infirmary, where Peter and Doctor Banner were comparing Hopkins’ measurements to the known dragon breeds. Meanwhile their topic of discussion was napping, curled up in Peter’s coat. 

“It’s all rather extraordinary,” Banner was saying. “If we look purely at Hopkins’ conformation and proportions, he appears to be Abenaki, a native longwing breed from about 150 miles northeast of here. They’re generally between 12 and 14 tons when full grown. However, the patch of skin and a few bones I was able to retrieve from the nesting site matches up to the native lightweights of this area, which are generally around 6 to 8 tons. While it’s not unheard of for dragons with that sort of size differential to mate, the result of such a pairing is ... unpredictable.”

“So, we don’t really know what he’ll look like, or how large he’ll be when he’s grown.” Peter concluded. Anthony had more pressing concerns. 

“Could the unusual pairing have contributed to his health issues?” he asked.

“Possibly, but while his medical conditions are concerning, there’s a good chance he will grow out of them,” Banner replied. “I’ve prepared a herbal concoction - the next time he has difficulty breathing, put two spoons of this in a pot of boiling water and let him breathe the steam.” He handed over a strong-smelling cloth bag. “I’d like to be kept apprised of his progress, with a letter once in awhile, if you find the time. Perhaps you could bring him back in a month so I can examine him again?” 

Anthony was pleasantly surprised. He’d assumed that since they weren’t part of the covert, that a cursory inspection would be all the effort that the doctor would care to expend. He seemed to honestly care for Hopkins’ well being, despite both he and Peter being strangers. 

“Certainly, and thank you for your time and assistance, Doctor Banner. I assume I can contact you in care of the covert? Come, Peter, we must be going. Hopkins, dear.... wake up...”

Anthony kept his word, sending twice-weekly updates to the doctor by post; Banner was as friendly on paper as in person. Hopkins had a few more attacks, but the herbal treatment seemed to ease his breathing each time. He was flying regularly, and eating quite well; in fact, he had started hunting to supplement his meals. However, he was growing quite slowly for a young dragon. By Hopkins’ first month birthday, he was only the size of a typical herding dog.

Their first visit back to the covert had to be delayed due to the weather, but on a clear day in mid-November, Peter hitched Happy (who by now was quite resigned to the presence of the young dragon) to the buckboard and they set out on the northbound road. Hopkins flew most of the way, testing his endurance as well as navigation skills. Anthony made a mental note to inquire of Commodore Sousa where he could purchase maps of the area. 

Their first stop was the infirmary. Doctor Banner was less concerned about Hopkins’ slow rate of growth than astounded by the fact that they (primarily Peter) had taught him to read. It was somewhat self-serving, as Hopkins’ taste in books leaned more toward detailed histories and the minutia of military strategy, rather than Peter’s preference for tales of derring do. 

“We must consider that the Chinese breeds of dragon are often taught to read and write; in fact, there are famous dragon poets and authors in that country. So it seems the capability in dragonkind is there, it’s simply a matter of individual aptitude and opportunity.” Banner commented. Anthony was quite proud of his scholarly companion, he had ordered a translation of _The Art of War_ , as well as Thucydides’ _The History of the Peloponnesian War_. They’d already worked their way through Machiavelli’s _The Prince_ , as it was one of his own personal favorites. 

But Hopkins had also been yearning for the company of his own kind. He often watched wistfully as the dragons of the covert practiced their formations above the lake and had finally asked Anthony if he could spend more time with Hancock on their next visit. “She was very kind to me, even though she is so large, and I am small.” 

“I imagine she would be delighted to see you again, dear one. I shall write to Sousa to make the request.” The Commodore’s reply was quite amicable, saying that Hancock had missed Hopkins and was looking forward to introducing him to the other dragons at the covert. 

So after they completed their visit with Banner, Anthony and Hopkins made their way to Hancock’s clearing, while Peter remained behind to talk with the doctor. The dragon was just tucking into a fresh cow carcass; she turned to them with rather gory chops, saying “Well, look who has come to see me again -- Captain Stark and my dear friend, Hopkins. My, aren’t you growing up big and strong! Let me see your wingspan.” 

Anthony began to protest her address -- he was no captain -- but Hopkins puffed out his chest and spread his wings wide, excitedly describing his hunting exploits. The two dragons entered into conversation easily, and Anthony found himself the odd man out. 

Hancock had a spacious pavilion in which to shelter during inclement weather. Three sides of the building had removable wooden panels, with the fourth currently open to the air. The building was connected to one of the barracks, sharing a stout brick fireplace built so as to pass the smoke underneath the slate floor, heating the stone before it vented. Anthony thought that hot water would be more efficient; perhaps pressurized in a boiler. He was mentally sketching a layout for the piping when he was approached by one of Hancock’s crew - a dark-skinned man perhaps five years Anthony’s junior.

“May I help you, sir?” The aviator seemed surprised that a stranger was standing so calmly next to a creature the size of a small house. While the general populace no longer feared dragons to the same extent as in the past, few people chose to place themselves in the company of what many still considered dangerous beasts.

“My apologies. I should have asked Commodore Sousa’s permission for us to visit with Hancock again. I am Anthony Stark and that is Hopkins.” He gestured towards his companion who had just launched himself into the sky, presumably to show off his latest aerial accomplishments. “The Commodore and I are old friends,” Anthony added. It wasn’t a lie, not exactly; just not the entire truth. 

“Lieutenant James Rhodes, at your service.” He made a short bow, then extended his hand. “Stark... that name sounds familiar,” he continued as they shook hands. “Would you be related to the late Howard Stark? Commodore Sousa has spoken highly of him - said we wouldn’t have won the war without his weapon designs and assistance with strategy.” 

Anthony inclined his head, as much to disguise his pained expression as to acknowledge the compliment. “Howard Stark was my father, and he would have been pleased to know that the Commodore had such kind words to say of him.” 

They watched as Hopkins completed a tight loop, then banked to fly circles around Hancock, who chuckled indulgently. The young dragon was nimble and quick, and could turn on a dime, despite his outsized wings. A second member of Sousa’s crew came angrily striding toward them. She was a young woman of perhaps twenty and five years, dressed in riding gear with reddish-blonde hair spilling from underneath her close-fitting cap as she gestured towards Hopkins. “Rhodey, what the devil is that little feral doing teasing Hancock? You know she’s been tempery! Oh, I didn’t see you had company.” She blushed, presumably due to the language she had used in front of a stranger. 

“Captain Stark, may I present Lieutenant Virginia Potts. Potts, this is Captain Anthony Stark, an acquaintance of the Commodore.” Anthony bowed, unsure how to disabuse them of the notion that he was worthy of the title that Rhodes had addressed him by. Potts bowed in return. Rhodes continued, “That little dragon is no feral. He goes by Hopkins and was harnessed by Stark.” 

“I beg your pardon, sir.” she apologized, a smile in her eyes, despite her abashed look. “We get the occasional feral skulking around, hoping for a free meal. While Hancock does occasionally share her leftovers, she’s been in a mood and I was afraid she’d strike out at him and perhaps do them both harm. Would it be too forward of me to ask how you ended up with a native breed?” 

“Not at all.” Anthony found himself smiling back at her, appreciating her forthrightness. He told them both the story of how Hopkins came into his life as they walked back towards the barracks. “I should have corrected you sooner on styling me ‘Captain’, Lieutenant,” he finished, speaking to Rhodes. “I would never presume to that title.” 

“Understood. It is a most unusual situation all the way around, “ Rhodes acknowledged. “Abandoned feral eggs are generally eaten by another dragon or some other beast before anyone has a chance to discover them. Your apprentice was in the right place at the right time. While I might have disagreed with the Doctor’s initial decision, it seems to have worked out well in the end.” 

The next thing Anthony knew, the three of them had been joined by Banner and Peter, as well as the Commodore himself, and were sitting down to dinner. A servant brought out bowls of a hearty beef stew as a basket of bread was passed around the large table. The conversation was lively, and both Anthony and Peter were made to feel at ease. Sousa filled his lieutenants in on his and Anthony’s history in a matter-of-fact way, and neither Potts nor Rhodes seemed inclined to inquire further. 

Anthony realized that Hopkins had not eaten since the day before, so after their meal, he and Peter returned to Hancock’s clearing, accompanied by the two lieutenants and the doctor. On inquiring as to whether he was hungry, Hopkins replied. “Oh, Hancock was kind enough to share her meal with me. Then she took me to meet the other dragons!” 

Their first encounter had been Knowlton, a greyling only one month Hopkins’ senior. They were reasonably close in size, compared to the other dragons, and had hit it off well. “Her captain is named Lang,” Hopkins told them. “Knowlton says he is ever so clever, but I told him you surely were more so.” Anthony’s face grew hot as he noted Potts' amused look.

Hopkins also spoke highly of Lafayette, the other dragon currently in residence at the covert. “He is a longwing, even older than Hancock, and has fought in many battles. He had another captain before his current one. They were both named Carter, which I suppose is convenient, but perhaps confusing as well.” 

Potts and Rhodes were taken aback by Hopkins’ volubility. Over the past month, Anthony and Peter had gotten in the habit of speaking to Hopkins as if he were an equal, and his vocabulary and self-expression had blossomed. When Peter told them that Hopkins could read, they were even more astonished, as neither of them had ever met a dragon so educated. 

Banner mentioned how certain Chinese dragon breeds were taught to read and write. He and Peter had done some additional research that morning and had discovered a theory that since Chinese was a pictographic language, perhaps it was easier for dragons to comprehend than the Western alphabet, as they are highly visually-oriented. 

“We know that dragons can learn multiple languages in the shell. For example, Lafayette is fluent in both French and English, as his egg was confiscated from a Quebec covert just one month before he hatched. If dragons are exposed to writing early in their lives, as Hopkins has been and the Chinese breeds often are, it shouldn’t be a surprise that at least some of them should become literate.” 

While Anthony found the company surprisingly pleasurable, the hour was getting late. They all had been sitting on the porch of the barracks and enjoying the temperate evening, but Hopkins’ attempt to curl up in Anthony’s lap -- all the while denying that he felt at all tired -- provided the ideal opportunity to take their leave. 

“Doctor Banner, thank you again for your assistance.” Anthony said, as he hefted his drowsy charge onto his shoulder. As with most dragons, Hopkins was not as heavy as he looked, and Anthony was still able to carry him, if not for much longer. “I shall continue to provide updates as to Hopkins’ progress. Lieutenants Potts and Rhodes, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Please tell the Commodore that we appreciate all the hospitality shown us, not only today, but in our previous visits as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the cast list is growing, just like Hopkins himself. Who else will be appearing in this story? Keep reading to find out... :^) 
> 
> As for the dragons' names: [ Hopkins](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Hopkins_\(politician\)), [ Hancock](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hancock) and [ Knowlton](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Knowlton) all follow my own rule that dragons in America were named after famous statemen or military heroes.


	4. Chapter 4

They borrowed a few horse blankets to make a pallet for Hopkins in the bed of the buckboard, and with the little dragon sleeping soundly, the ride back home was quiet and uneventful. In addition to the blankets, Sousa had loaned Anthony a book on dragon formation tactics and a few maps of the area and he was looking forward to reviewing them with Hopkins over the next weeks. 

The dragon roused himself enough to make his own way into the workshop, and as Peter put Happy up and checked on the livestock, Hopkins fixed Anthony with a surprisingly serious look. 

“Anthony, you are my captain, are you not?” 

“Why do you ask, my dear?” 

“Because the other dragons’ companions are all captains. Well, except for Sousa ... he is a commodore, which is a more important sort of captain, according to Hancock.” 

“Well, we are a special circumstance, little one. I am but a blacksmith and tinkerer, and you were an orphaned egg,” Anthony responded, simplifying the situation considerably. 

“But Hancock told me you served with her and Sousa as a midwingman. Any aviator who harnesses a dragon becomes a captain, no matter how old he or she is. Sousa was only sixteen when he harnessed Hancock. And surely you remember Peter reading to us about Temeraire -- his captain, Laurence, was nearly your age when they bonded.” 

Anthony had no idea that Hancock and Hopkins had discussed his own past in such detail, and that the little dragon had come to his own conclusions about their status. “Your memory continues to astound me, and I cannot fault your logic. Very well, I am your captain.” 

His companion nodded in satisfaction. “When we next visit the covert, I shall insist that everyone uses your title properly.” 

“Now that is taking things a bit too far,” Anthony chided. “As I have told you, I am not in the Corps; it would be both improper and disrespectful to claim to be a captain in their presence.” 

“Hancock says that once an aviator, always an aviator,” Hopkins argued. “She also told me about the accident, and that everyone expected that you would return to service once you had healed from your wounds.” The little dragon then paused, drawing his eyebrows together in concern. “Oh, Anthony... are you still hurt? I never thought of that. You should go see Doctor Banner -- I’m sure he can make you feel better. He is a very good doctor. And then in the spring, we can start training with the other dragons.” 

It was difficult to remember at times that Hopkins was barely a month old, and his experience of the world was quite limited. Anthony was both touched by his companion’s concern and mildly alarmed by the dragon’s stubborn insistence that he was indeed a captain, and therefore should be in the Corps. 

“We will discuss this more later, dear one. You have had a busy day and it is past your bedtime.” They had planned for Hopkins to sleep in a large basket near the forge; but as the weather grew colder, the dragonet started sneaking up to the loft and snuggling with Peter, who did not seem displeased at the companionship. 

According to Banner, young dragons often had difficulty keeping warm during cold weather, as the surface area of their wings cooled the blood more than it would an adult, with their larger comparative body mass. So not only did Anthony not mind that Hopkins slept with Peter, but when the first storm of the winter arrived, they moved both beds next to the forge and the three of them bundled up together under every blanket they owned. It was strangely comforting to hear Hopkins’ soft breathing so close throughout the night. 

But this was only a temporary solution, as Hopkins was still eating well and growing in length, if not as much in bulk. Anthony drew up the plan he had envisioned while looking over the pavilion at the covert and ordered the necessary materials. He joined Peter on his next trip to Saratoga Springs, as they had to hire another wagon to carry all the supplies he needed, as well as the additional order of coal. It took a week of hard work, but the heated platform they built for Hopkins served to keep not only the dragon, but the entire workshop much warmer than before. They scarcely took notice of the vicious storm that swept across the state later that month. 

Thankfully, the weather cleared before their next planned visit to the covert, the day before Christmas. Banner had written that they would be celebrating a belated Thanksgiving, as Sousa had been called away on business to other coverts in mid-November and had just recently returned. Anthony was glad he had ordered an extra copy of this year’s _Token and Atlantic Souvenir_ , in addition to those meant for Peter and Aunt May. He always enjoyed reading through the literary collection, and hoped that it would be a good addition to the small library at the covert. 

They would not be arriving empty-handed to the feast, either. Hopkins had managed to take down a full grown doe the week before, so a roast joint of venison and two pots of Aunt May’s preserves were carefully packed in a basket. Peter got the buckboard and Happy ready for their trip and they were on their way by mid-morning. 

The day had dawned calm and clear, and the road to the covert was in remarkably good shape. Hopkins was also in fine form, flying ahead of them along the road and then returning to see what was taking them so long. “This trip will be much quicker once I am big enough to carry you,” he grumbled, as they arrived at the covert. 

A festive wreath of fir and holly hung on the door of the main building, and the smell of baked goods wafted out as Anthony and Peter entered. Hopkins had continued on to Hancock’s pavilion; as he was now a little too large to be comfortable indoors anywhere other than their spacious workshop. Anthony had promised that he would join them after dinner and bring him something sweet from the table. 

Peter took the basket of food to the kitchen, while Sousa introduced Anthony to the other aviators currently in residence. First was Lafayette’s captain, Sharon Carter. A blonde woman of perhaps five and twenty years, she wore a burgundy gown, and returned Anthony’s bow with a curtsy. Carter then introduced her lieutenants, Angelica Martin and Edwin Jarvis. 

“Mister Jarvis’ father served with my aunt, Lafayette’s first captain,” she explained. “We are somewhat unique in having two second-generation aviators in our crew. Lafayette is also one of the oldest dragons currently serving in the Corps, isn’t that right, Commodore?” 

“Indeed. He was hatched in 1777 and took part in several battles near the end of our first war for independence, as well as the second. I met the senior Miss Carter at Fort Niagara, where she and Lafayette fought bravely, despite our defeat.” A fond look briefly crossed Sousa’s face, and Anthony wondered if there had been something more between the two captains than the camaraderie of battle. 

Anthony was then introduced to Knowlton’s captain, Scott Lang. He was the youngest of the captains present, barely twenty years of age. “Stark, as in the son of Howard Stark?” Lang asked excitedly. “I’ve studied his work for quite some time and still don’t feel I understand it all. What he did with Congreve’s basic design...” 

“Would you be so kind as to pour the wine for a toast, Mister Lang?” Sousa interrupted. “I have a few things to discuss with our guest here before we sit down to eat.” Sousa took Anthony’s arm and led him away from the somewhat nonplussed aviator. 

“Thank you, sir,” Anthony murmured as they walked to the window. Reminders of his father, particularly in this environment, were still difficult to bear. 

“My apologies, Stark. Lang is a good man, if a bit ... exuberant at times. He reminds me of your younger self, in fact.” They accepted the glasses of wine from Lang, and the entire company turned to face their commander. 

“To fine company, a fine meal and the finest country in all the world. God save the United States of America!” 

“God save the President!” came the traditional reply from one and all. After the toast, they sat down to the feast. As it was a formal occasion, Anthony found himself seated in the place of honor, to the right of the Commodore. Captain Carter was seated next to him, with her two lieutenants on her other side. On Sousa’s left sat Captain Lang, then Lieutenants Potts and Rhodes, and Doctor Banner. Peter was seated with the midwingmen, who filled in the rest of the table. The ensigns and cadets assisted with serving the meal; they would eat afterwards. 

Sousa tapped a glass. “I have an announcement before we give thanks. Headquarters has confirmed that Chase and Captain Thompson have been permanently reassigned to the Choate Island covert. As this leaves us with a gap in our formation, we will be joined after the first of the year by Captain Samuel Wilson and his dragon, Laurens, a Bronze Liberty. They are coming from the covert at our nation’s capital, and I expect you all to make them most welcome.” 

The meal was one of the best that Anthony had experienced in quite some time. Not only was both his and Peter’s cooking indifferent at best, but he found he enjoyed the company as well. As he made dinner conversation with Miss Carter, he discovered that she had served with Sousa and Hancock early in her career and they had a few mutual acquaintances among the crew. She laughed merrily as he described Cadet Hammer's misadventures, as she’d only known him as a rather dull senior officer in the Administration wing of the Corps. 

“What about Yauch, Commodore?” Anthony asked, turning to his other dinner partner. “He was made midwingman the same time I was. Surely he has his own dragon by now? I can’t imagine him behind a desk.”

Sousa shook his head. “He was killed at the Battle of York. While it was a victory, we paid a terrible cost.” Anthony realized to his chagrin that his former captain had probably lost his leg during that same battle, and quickly changed the subject. As the meal progressed, he looked down the table to see that Peter was getting on well with the younger officers, which pleased him. Miss Potts, looking lovely in a green gown that matched the dress coats of the male aviators, caught his eye as well, giving him a warm look. 

They finished the feast with the sweets course, a blancmange topped with Aunt May’s preserves. The aviators rose from the table and Anthony asked Peter to retrieve a package they had left in the entryway. “Commodore, as a token of my thanks for the hospitality shown by yourself and the covert to me, my apprentice and dear Hopkins, may I present you with this book?” He handed over the package, which Sousa received with surprise and honest delight as he opened it. 

“An admirable addition to our paltry library, filled with stuffy histories and outdated charts. Thank you, sir.” Anthony offered to take it to the study, along with the book and maps he had borrowed, as it gave him a chance to step away from the lively dinner party for a moment. After his years as a hermit, he was still easily overwhelmed by the presence of so many people. He took his time putting the maps back in their places, then browsed the shelves for something new to read with Hopkins. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Miss Potts,” Anthony said, after nearly colliding with the lieutenant in the archway that led back into the dining room. She smiled, accepting his apology. 

“I’m glad you and Master Parker were able to join us. The weather can be so unpredictable this time of year.” 

“The pleasure was all ours. We enjoyed the company and certainly would not have eaten as well otherwise.” 

She laughed, then glanced up. Anthony followed her gaze and spotted the small, white berries of a sprig of mistletoe hung among the holly and fir. After a moment of bemusement, he bowed and kissed her hand as a mark of respect and in recognition of her rank in the Corps. 

While he still held her hand, she stepped closer, the hem of her dress covering the toes of his boots. Placing her other hand on his shoulder, she kissed him lightly, but with intent, on the cheek. “I wish you the most joyous of holidays,” she added, eyes sparkling as she plucked a berry from the greenery. Before he could pull his thoughts together to reply, Miss Virginia Potts had returned to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes more new characters have been added and lookee there... so was a relationship tag! :^)


	5. Chapter 5

Anthony found himself walking the path to Hancock’s pavilion; thankful for the crisp air clearing his head. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the rather stuffy interior -- heavy sailcloth now forming the fourth wall of the enclosure -- he was greeted quietly by its inhabitant. 

“Good afternoon, Captain Stark.” 

Anthony replied in a low tone, following her lead; he’d given up on trying to correct her mode of address. He noted the sleeping form of Hopkins perched on her back and smiled fondly. “Did Hopkins overeat? He was in too much of a hurry to be on our way this morning to break his fast.” 

“Not exactly,” she replied reluctantly. “Knowlton came over to crow about flying her captain all the way to Saratoga Springs earlier this week. She did not mean to taunt Hopkins, I am sure, but he took offence and challenged her to a race to the south side of Scandaga Lake and back.” That was surely a distance of over dozen miles one way, added to the six miles and more he had already flown from their home to the covert that morning. 

“Good lord -- is he all right?” As far as Anthony knew, he’d never flown anything close to that distance before, much less racing against an older, stronger dragon. Surely one of Hancock’s ground crew would have fetched Doctor Banner if Hopkins had hurt himself, or had trouble breathing...

“He was not harmed, simply exhausted," Hancock reassured him. "But he did win; he wanted to make sure you knew that. I have saved him something to eat when he wakes up.” She inclined her head toward the feeding trough and some unidentifiable chunks of meat. That movement was sufficient to rouse Hopkins from his slumber; the young dragon groaning as he stretched his wings. He hopped down from her back to greet his companion. 

“Anthony, you’re here! Did Hancock tell you about the race? I flew as fast as I could, and Knowlton nearly caught up with me at the end, but I won! I was ever so tired afterward, and dear Hancock let me sleep on her back. She is very warm and comfortable. I am terribly hungry now, though -- did you bring me anything?” 

“Congratulations, my dear. I am proud of you. I believe Hancock was kind enough to leave you something to eat. I am sorry I forgot to bring you anything from our meal.” Anthony stroked the young dragon’s head in apology, and received a pleased trill in return before he went to the trough to feed. 

After finishing his meal, Hopkins ducked his head and claws in the water barrel, then brought some rags to Anthony to dry him off. As they had been sharing living quarters, Anthony had insisted on certain standards of cleanliness for his companion, and it had become a habit. Hopkins was also very tactile and never missed an opportunity to be in physical contact with his friends, be they humans or dragons. 

“There you are, Stark.” Rhodes entered the pavilion, followed by Peter and Sousa, with Potts slipping in a few moments later. “And how are you today, Hopkins?” The young dragon excitedly shared the story of that morning’s race, adding some additional details that may or may not have been exaggerated in the retelling. 

“I knew you’d make a fine courier,” Sousa said with a chuckle. “But you shouldn’t leave the covert without checking with your captain first. What if he had needed you while you were gone?” 

“Oh... I hadn’t thought of that,” Hopkins replied, looking chastened. “I am sorry, Anthony.” 

“I forgive you, my dear. I know how excited you get about flying. Just remember for next time.” 

Sousa excused himself, entering the barracks and returning a few moments later with the head of the covert’s ground crew, Aloysius Samberly. Stark had met him briefly during a previous visit; as the man was also familiar with Howard Stark’s work, they had struck up a correspondence. He was carrying a large canvas sack over his shoulder which Hancock took a great interest in. 

“Daniel, is that the present for Hopkins?” she asked. When Sousa nodded, she flicked out her tongue with pleasure. “Oh, I do hope he likes it!” 

“A present? For me?” Hopkins ran over to the men, peering curiously at the bag. 

“Yes, indeed. Samberly, if you would?” Sousa replied, and his subordinate drew forth a tangle of leather and metal, shaking it gently to reveal a harness sized specifically for the young dragon. “Hopkins, Hancock thought it time you got used to wearing a harness for when you are large enough to carry your captain.” Sousa explained, then turned to Anthony. “I trust you will not think us too forward with this gift.” 

Anthony stepped forward to take the harness as Rhodes turned up the lanterns to provide more light. The leather was a soft, buttery tan, with rivets, rings and buckles of polished brass. The crew had obviously put a great deal of time and effort into assembling it, with some of the work probably done just this morning, to match his current measurements. Anthony felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes; two months ago he would have thought it manipulative, but after having gotten to know everyone present, he saw it for what it was, a mark of their respect and consideration. “Not at all, sir. Thank you,” he replied softly, then turned to Hopkins, who was practically bouncing up and down from excitement. 

It was a simple harness, built around a padded shoulder yoke. Two straps ran across the back and one under each wing, connected loosely behind the wings and ribs, in place of a full crupper. The straps had been cut generously enough to allow Hopkins another month or two of growth, Anthony estimated. A rectangle of canvas stood in as belly rigging, with carabiners to connect it to the harness. He struggled to recall if there were certain words he was supposed to say; some sort of ceremony, but in the end he simply asked Hopkins if he could put the harness on him. 

“Oh, yes - please!” came the reply. The young dragon held quite still, allowing Anthony to place the straps properly and fasten the buckles. Once he was finished, Hopkins fidgeted slightly at the unaccustomed pressure and weight, but his eyes were bright and his head held high. 

“Now, Hopkins dear -- extend your wings and move them through a full stroke. Make sure the straps do not impede your movement,” Hancock instructed. “Then rise on your back legs and shake to make sure nothing comes loose. If everything feels secure, say to your captain ‘All lies well’.” Hopkins did as he was told, and Anthony could not have been prouder. He looked over to see Potts surreptitiously wiping at her eyes, while Peter’s grin nearly split his face. Rhodes’ and Sousa’s expressions were more reserved, but he noted a look of satisfaction in his former captain’s eyes, and the lieutenant met his gaze with a broad wink. 

“On behalf of both Hopkins and myself, I thank you all for such thoughtfulness and generosity,” Anthony said. “Mister Samberly, please tell your men they did a masterful job on the harness. Hopkins, would you like to try it out?” 

They exited the pavilion, with Samberly detouring to the crew quarters to locate the test weights. He returned with a three stone sandbag, which, with the harness, represented about a quarter of Hopkins’ weight. The young dragon protested that he could carry a good deal more, but Anthony insisted on this limit. They secured the sandbag in the belly rigging, to spread the weight across the harness more evenly. Hopkins shook again, confirming that all lay well. 

After launching himself without difficulty, Hopkins quickly rose to the height of the treetops. He soared from the pavilion to the main building, then took a sharply banked turn to make the return trip. He flew a loop once he returned to the clearing. Everything stayed in place, and he appeared to be moving both body and wings freely. 

The dragon made a rather showy landing in front of the group to a round of applause. “Well done, Hopkins!” Potts cheered. Hancock rumbled her approval as well. Anthony removed the weight, but his charge balked when he tried to remove the harness as well. “Oh, no, not yet, Anthony. I want to show Knowlton and Lafayette! May I?” 

“Of course, my dear. But do not be vain or boastful.” Hopkins agreed, then winged away into the evening. Samberly joined his crew back in the barracks, while the rest of them returned to the main building. In their absence, the tables had been cleared, and the remaining aviators had brought out several decks of cards and other games. Potts and Rhodes were recruited to fill out a hand of whist, while Banner waved Peter over to a chess board. 

“I should like to calculate just how far Knowlton and Hopkins raced this morning; perhaps it would be a useful training flight. Stark, would you care to join me in the study?” Anthony assisted Sousa in rolling out the appropriate map and double-checked his figures as he charted the route. They determined the two young dragons had flown just over a thirty mile round trip. 

“Hancock said they were gone not much longer than an hour; that’s quite a respectable pace, even if they were riderless,” Sousa mused. “I’m looking forward to seeing them make the same flight with their captains.” And under his former commander’s direct gaze, Anthony had no reply. He had been so focused on the here and now -- keeping Hopkins safe, warm and healthy -- that he hadn’t dared look more than a week or two into the future at any point over the past few months. It hadn’t been until he actually saw Hopkins in harness that he realized his companion would be full grown all too soon, deserving more than just being a treasured pet. 

“I know that winter is not over, and you are still concerned for your dragon’s health,” Sousa continued, “but Banner has done more research on native breeds and expects to see Hopkins have a growth spurt by early spring, and that he will reach courier weight at maturity, and perhaps even be able to carry additional passengers. As you know, the Corps is always in need of messengers, even in peacetime. And should we face combat again, scouts and lookouts are invaluable.” 

“Yes, sir. I appreciate the confidence you have in Hopkins’ future abilities. I just don’t believe I could be...” Anthony started. 

“Nonsense,” Sousa interrupted. “Your self-reliance and ingenuity are exactly the sort of qualities a courier’s captain needs. I know you have the training and the background; I helped see to it myself. True, you may need to polish up some minor skills, like signal reading and aerial navigation, but you know in your bones what it means to be an aviator. You have sacrificed enough, Anthony. Come home.” 

Anthony had no rejoinder. His visits to the covert had reminded him of the true sense of community found within the Corps. Everyone he had met had been welcoming and warm, even once they found out who he was and the mistakes he had made. He counted Banner and Rhodes as true friends, and then there was Miss Virginia Potts. 

Their encounter earlier in the evening had been a bit of an epiphany for him. While he’d thought her attractive from the moment he first saw her, he found he truly enjoyed her company. And of course he respected her as an aviator. So, to find that she was apparently also attracted to him was yet another reason to take the next step.

Sousa cleared his throat; he’d obviously noticed that Anthony had gotten lost in his own thoughts again. “Just so you know, Stark, I have informed Headquarters about Hopkins, per regulations. I reported that a feral egg had been rescued and the resultant dragonet was being raised by a local resident with the guidance of the covert.” 

“As my initial report referenced Master Parker, I have kept his name on the subsequent updates. However,” and Sousa smiled slightly, “with my poor handwriting, it should be easy enough to convince the clerk that what he has been reading as ‘Parker’ was really ‘Stark’ all along. I would be pleased to recommend that the Corps reinstate a former midwingman to the rolls with a promotion to captain.” 

“Sir, with a fine tactical mind like yours, it is no wonder that you were promoted to Commodore,” Anthony replied, after a moment of silence. “I thank you for your belief in my character and my potential. I accept the invitation. It would be an honor to serve with you again.”


	6. Chapter 6

Anthony asked Sousa if he would mind delaying any sort of general announcement until he had a chance to speak with his apprentice. Peter would need to have a place in the covert as well, so Anthony suggested that he could study under Banner. Sousa agreed to talk with the doctor about it privately beforehand as well. 

“Peter, would you join me to go check in on Hopkins? I want to make sure he isn’t planning on keep Hancock up til all hours.” His apprentice rose from the table -- he and Banner had finished their chess game and were discussing dragon breeds, both native and European. 

They donned their cloaks, as the evening had turned cold, and strode briskly across the compound to Hancock’s pavilion. When they had made arrangements to stay the night at the covert, the senior dragon had said she would be happy to host Hopkins. As the pavilion had been built to house two middleweights, there was plenty of room for them both. 

The dragons were relaxing quietly when they arrived. Anthony took a few moments to look, really look at Hopkins. While he was still much smaller than any other dragon of his approximate age -- Knowlton was only one month his senior and easily twice his size -- he was no longer a gangly waif, all wings and tail, curled up on his or Peter’s lap. When standing, Hopkins’ shoulders would hit Anthony at mid-chest, and they could look each other in the eyes. His wingspan was still outsized; fully extended, he could probably touch both walls of the workshop with his wingtips, if the way were clear. Sousa had been right all along, Hopkins would make a fine courier. 

“Lafayette and Knowlton said I looked quite handsome in my new harness.” Hopkins yawned wide and stretched. “I am very tired. Hancock, may I sleep on your back again?” She drowsily mumbled her approval, half-asleep as well. 

“Let’s take your harness off first, as you will both be much more comfortable without it,” Anthony stated, reaching for the buckles. Hopkins pulled away with a petulant look. 

“No, it is mine,” he fussed tiredly. “It was a gift, from you and from Hancock and from her captain and ground crew.” 

“Yes, my dear, it was. But the metal will dig into your and Hancock’s skin and be quite unpleasant. I promise you can put it back on in the morning.” Anthony argued, as his companion clambered up onto the larger dragon’s back, out of reach. 

“Let him wear it, Captain. One night will do him no damage, and my scales are not so easily harmed,” Hancock reassured him. “It is just that he is so proud of feeling more like a proper dragon.” Anthony felt a pang of guilt, that Hopkins saw himself as removed from his kin. Dragons, like humans, were social creatures with a sense of purpose, and Anthony had been remiss in his duties to his companion in that respect. 

“Very well, but I will check you over quite carefully in the morning to make sure you have taken no hurt. Good night, Hancock. Sleep well, my dear Hopkins.” 

“Good night, Anthony,” his companion murmured as his eyes sagged closed. “Thank you.” 

As they went back out into the night, their lanterns barely needed under the full moon, Anthony said, “Peter, Commodore Sousa has invited me to apply for readmittance to the Corps, and I have accepted. He will complete the paperwork in the morning and have it sent directly to Headquarters. It seems I shall truly be a captain after all.” 

“Congratulations, sir!” came his apprentice’s reply, who then paused for a moment. “I suppose this means that I shall be returning to Aunt May.”

“Not necessarily. You see, a condition of my acceptance was that we find a place for you in the Corps as well. You are my apprentice and that is a responsibility I have never intended to take lightly. Sousa is talking to Doctor Banner to see if he would be interested in having you as an assistant. Your interests align and I believe your skills and aptitudes would transfer well. Would you be interested?” 

“Yes, oh yes, please!” the boy stumbled. “Thank you, sir!” 

“It is my pleasure, Peter. A young man of your talents deserves every opportunity.” As they re-entered the room, Anthony caught Sousa’s eye and nodded, receiving the same in silent reply. The Commodore then tapped on a glass to get everyone’s attention. 

“My fellow officers, I have an announcement. Tomorrow morning I will be sending paperwork to Headquarters to petition for the reinstatement of our comrade, Anthony Stark, to the Corps, along with a promotion to Captain, due to his harnessing of Hopkins. I have every confidence that the petition will be accepted. Sir, may I be the first to wish you the joy of your command!” With those words, Sousa bowed to Anthony with a genuine smile. 

“Thank you, Commodore. I would count myself blessed to become a quarter of the captain you are,” Anthony replied solemnly, returning the bow. 

“Three cheers for Captain Stark! Hip, hip hurrah!” Rhodes started the salute, but the rest of the aviators quickly joined in, following it with a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” The remainder of the evening was spent in song, alternating between traditional Christmas carols and more secular tunes. Lieutenant Martin turned out to be a talented guitarist, and one of the midshipmen played fiddle, so they were well accompanied by music. 

Miss Carter’s clear, sweet soprano soared above the voices of the younger officers, but Anthony found himself drawn to Miss Potts’ quiet, steady alto. He himself had a passable tenor, while Sousa and Rhodes rumbled along in the bass register. As they sang “The King’s Ballad”, Anthony found himself reflecting on the lyrics:

>   
>  _Pastime with good company, I love and shall until I die ..._  
>  _Company is good and ill, but every man has his free will._  
> 

He had denied himself this sort of pastime for much of his adult life, and had thought it the proper course. But it would be neither fair nor right to impose such solitude on Hopkins, or, indeed, on Peter. He believed he had made the right decision to rejoin the Corps, and could only hope that Headquarters agreed. 

As the clock struck midnight, the party drew to a close with a rendition of “The Parting Glass”. One of the servants escorted him and Peter to their rooms, where a fire had already been laid and a lantern lit. For the first time in much too long, Anthony found himself counting his blessings before drifting off to sleep. 

He woke the next morning, slightly disoriented and fuzzy-headed; perhaps he had imbibed a little too freely the previous night. He dressed and descended to the dining room, where a full breakfast and -- thank heavens -- a fresh pot of coffee had been laid on. Rhodes was already seated at a table in the corner, and waved Anthony over.

“Good morning, Captain!” he said, a little too cheerfully for so early in the morning, at least according to Anthony’s lights.

“Wait until the paperwork is approved before addressing me as such, Lieutenant,” he replied with a laugh. 

“I’m thankful we don’t have to wait even longer. I believed your stubborn streak would last until you and Hopkins were actually flying together.” 

“So, were you all in on Sousa’s plan to bring the prodigal son home?” Anthony asked archly. He then suddenly recalled seeing Rhodes drop a few coins into Potts’ hands after the announcement last night. “I thought placing wagers was frowned upon among officers in the Corps.” 

Rhodes had the good grace to look abashed. “I apologize, sir. We did not intend to make light of your decision.” 

“Apology accepted. It seems Miss Potts knows my mind better than I do.” 

“I doubt that highly, Captain,” came her voice from the sideboard. “But I do hope to get to know you better, once you join us here at the covert. Along with Hopkins and Master Parker, that is.” Potts slid into the empty seat at their table, a mug of coffee hiding her smile, but not the liveliness in her eyes. She was once again in standard aviator attire, hair braided and tucked back under her hat instead of flowing in the cascade of curls Anthony remembered from the night before. She looked more boyish, of course, but no less lovely, he thought. 

“Well, I have several projects to complete before I can move house,” Anthony explained, which led to a discussion of his workshop and from there into general conversation. Peter joined them soon after and all thoughts of the wager were temporarily forgotten. It wasn’t until Anthony was sharing the news of his intent to rejoin the Corps with Hopkins and Hancock that it came back to mind; a dark, treacherous part of him suddenly resenting how the others had treated a private personal decision of his so cavalierly. 

Perhaps (the small, insistent voice continued) even the kiss under the mistletoe had been a tactic of Potts’ to hasten him along, so she could win the wager. That to her, he was simply a challenge, someone to bring to heel. He had known women like that, and had learned the all-too-painful lesson. Anthony tried to shake off the sudden melancholy that accompanied -- or perhaps caused -- such thoughts, and focused on his companion. 

Hopkins had indeed taken no harm from wearing his harness overnight, and was eager to try flying with a heavier load than the previous day. “How much do you weigh, Anthony?” Hopkins inquired. 

“Oh no, my dear. We shall not exceed the weight of the average cadet today.” That was roughly five stones’ worth, parceled out into one-stone bags placed in the belly rigging of Hopkins’ harness. After that flight proved successful, they shifted the sandbags around, gradually placing more across his shoulders and back as Hancock, Samberly and the other crew members all provided advice. As expected, Hopkins’ speed and agility were impacted and his energy flagged more quickly under the increased and differently-placed burden. However, Hopkins was still able to take off, fly and land without obvious strain or harm. And of course, he was nearly bursting with pride. 

By noon, Hopkins was ready for a meal and a nap, so they returned to the main building for lunch as well. The weekly courier had already come and gone, and Sousa assured Anthony that the paperwork was safely on its way. “We should hear back from Headquarters by the first of the year. You are welcome to relocate to the covert at any time after that, or maintain your residence until training starts in earnest this spring.” 

“Thank you, Commodore, but as I have several projects to complete, I believe I will remain at my workshop for the foreseeable future.” Anthony preferred the idea of having his own separate home to return to, at least for a while longer. After lunching with Peter and Doctor Banner, who were already planning out a course of study for the boy to pursue, he told his apprentice to start preparing for their return home. 

“We do not wish to overstay our welcome. Would you please go see if Hopkins is awake?” Anthony then retired to his room to pack his things, and with that moment of solitude, he felt the ominous thoughts from earlier in the day surge back into his mind. 

“Leaving so soon, Captain Stark?” It was Miss Potts, knocking on the open door. Perhaps it was fate, her appearance at his door. 

“Duty calls me away, I’m afraid. But might I have a word with you first?” 

“Of course,” she replied slowly, with a frown of concern. Perhaps Rhodes had already spoken to her about his discovery of their bet.

“Lieutenant Potts, it has come to my attention that you and Lieutenant Rhodes placed a wager regarding whether and when I would pursue reinstatement with the Corps.” Anthony knew he was being excessively formal, but it was the only way he was going to get through what he had to say. 

She took a deep breath before replying with equal formality, “Forgive me, sir. It was a thoughtless lark more suited to the most junior of officers. We in no way meant to diminish the importance of such a decision.” She seemed truly chastened, but that petty, sinister voice in his head compelled him to continue. 

“May I ask if the incident under the mistletoe last night was intended to influence that decision?” Her head snapped up, a look of outrage and hurt clear on her face. 

“Sir, I take offense. Perhaps you have dealt with women who would behave as such; but I have never so toyed with a man’s affections, or my own. While my action may have been driven by impulse, the sentiment behind it was heartfelt. I am sorry you felt it false.” There was color high in her cheeks, and her eyes practically blazed. But before he could make an apology, attempt to take back his accusation, she had stormed down the hall and down the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter conducted the lion’s share of the conversation on the ride home, with Anthony responding in as few words as possible. Fortunately, the boy was so excited by his new apprenticeship that he did not notice. Hopkins flew overhead wearing only his harness; for while they had borrowed training weights for additional practice flights, Anthony did not want the young dragon to overexert himself. 

Once they were home, Anthony set Peter to his chores, fired up the boiler for Hopkins’ warming platform and sat down at his desk. Perhaps a letter might start to repair the damage he had done. 

> _Miss Potts -_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well. I also hope this letter will allow me to make amends for my rash behaviour. I have spent too long in solitary company, and social niceties no longer come easily to me._
> 
> _I regret that I allowed distant memories of young women too interested in my father’s wealth and social standing to override what I already knew of your character. It is clear to me now that there was no intent of deceit or false-heartedness in your gesture; simply kindness and goodwill. I am truly sorry to have treated you so poorly, and pray that we may resume some sort of camaraderie._
> 
> _Your humble servant,  
>  Anthony Stark _

Anthony sanded the letter, letting the ink dry before folding and sealing it. On the reverse, he wrote “Lieutenant V. Potts - Adirondack Covert - Aerial Corps.” It was still not common knowledge that women served in the Corps, so using her title and first initial for a letter seemed prudent, as the local postmaster was quite meddlesome. But as he held the letter, he couldn’t bear the idea of the slow plod of horse-bound mail delivery.

“Yes, I know the way to the covert, Anthony,” Hopkins spoke with mild irritation in his voice the following morning. “I do not need to follow the road. I have a very good sense of direction. What is the message for Lieutenant Potts? I will tell it to her just as you tell it to me - I have a very good memory as well.” 

Anthony smiled at his companion’s earnestness. “I’ve already written it here,” he replied, tucking the letter securely into the pouch he had attached to Hopkins’ harness. 

“But why do you not take it to her yourself? You are quite fond of her, are you not?” Hopkins seemed honestly curious, and Anthony was both startled and amused by how well his companion could read him. 

“Am I that obvious, my dear?” 

“Anthony,” Hopkins responded with affection, “I know you. Of course I could see it. Oh, but does Miss Potts not know? Is this a confession of love?” 

“No, it is an apology for making an ass of myself, and hurting her feelings.”

“But why would you have done that, if you care for her so?” Despite Hopkins’ concern, Anthony was not prepared to have his dragon interfering in his personal life. 

“I was thoughtless and selfish and made a terrible mistake that I pray was not permanent. Please, Hopkins, just deliver the letter to Miss Potts. If she has a reply, wait for it. Otherwise, come back quickly, so I know you are safe. The glass shows a storm coming on.” Hopkins took wing, and in a moment was out of view. 

Peter was off to Saratoga Springs with plans to stay overnight with his aunt, so Anthony tried to busy himself with work. He found himself too distracted to do anything but the most mindless of tasks. He was startled to hear hoofbeats approaching the workshop around the time he expected Hopkins to return. When he looked out the window, he saw it was Virginia, Miss Potts. 

He was dumbfounded that she had taken the time and effort to ride all this way; he wasn’t sure if it boded well or ill. Anthony took the reins of her horse as she dismounted. “Lieutenant Potts, what a surprise! Is something wrong at the covert, to have brought you out in this unsettled weather?” he asked. 

“No, all is well. I am not here on Corps business. “ she responded coolly, so Anthony stabled her horse, then waved her into the workshop. As he closed the door and turned to face her, her stern facade wavered. “Most men would be content with sending an apology letter through the post, Mister Stark.” She sighed and shook her head. “But you continue to prove you are not at all like most men.” He didn’t know how to reply to that. “Hopkins was quite your advocate, by the way.” 

“I only asked him to deliver the letter,” he started, but she interrupted. 

“No, I found it charming, actually. And it’s not the first time a dragon has tried to meddle in my lovelife.” She started to pace. “I think they take as much of an interest in matchmaking us as we do in them. For example, Hancock was determined to pair me up with Rhodes when I transferred over to her several years ago.” Anthony felt a pang of jealousy. “However, Rhodes and I finally decided we were better off as friends.” She turned and fixed him with a look of inquiry. “Was Hopkins correct in his assertions? That you are fond of me?” 

“Yes,” Anthony responded simply, “I am. I find it impossible not to be. Does your coming here mean you have accepted my apology?” 

“I would not have come all this way if I had not,” she briskly responded, putting her hands on his shoulders. This time her kiss was meant for his lips, and her intent was made quite clear. As was his. “The storm may prevent me from returning to the covert tonight,” she murmured, as they broke apart for a moment. “Would you offer me safe harbor?” 

 

The first day of the new year dawned clear, but cold. Anthony was doing a tricky bit of soldering when he heard the wingbeats of a dragon approaching the workshop. It was Hancock, with her captain. The commodore was accompanied by two bundled-up figures that he assumed were Rhodes and Virginia. 

“We bear good tidings!” Sousa called as his dragon touched down in the nearly-too-small dooryard. “Admiral Phillips himself has approved your reinstatement and promotion -- you are now officially a captain!” He dismounted, and shook Anthony’s hand with vigor. “I brought a fine bottle of wine to celebrate with, if it has not frozen solid in this wind.”

“If it hasn’t, I think I have,” Rhodes muttered as he dismounted. “Days like this, I wish I’d never come North.” Anthony helped Virginia down, slyly placing a warm kiss on her cold lips. Hopkins glided in for a landing, coming to a sharp stop just a few yards from Hancock’s side. 

“My dear Hopkins - you’ve had quite a growth spurt this past week!” she said, looking him over closely. He had indeed grown another foot and more in length, and due to all the flights with the training weights, had put on a fair amount of muscle. “You must be eating quite well!” 

“Nearly an entire sheep or pig every day - I have been so hungry!” As the dragons continued their conversation, the rest of the party entered the workshop. Anthony showed off the warming platform, which was up to full steam. Rhodes immediately claimed it as his own, sprawling across the heated tiles. 

“This is amazing, Stark! How does it work?” Anthony spent the next quarter hour explaining the workings of the boiler, the safety features and his plans for scaling it up and installing it in the third dragon pavilion at the covert, which was currently vacant. 

Hopkins then joined them inside, squeezing himself through the front door to the workshop. Anthony would soon have to either widen the door or move the platform to the sheep shed. Hopkins gently nudged Rhodes to one side of the platform, and the rest of the party joined them, informally reclining against and around the dragon. Peter fetched a haphazard collection of mugs and glasses to serve the wine. 

“So you’re originally from the South, Rhodes?” Anthony asked as the bottle made a second round. 

“Born and raised in Virginia, little town called Jonesville. Started my career as a ground crew member for Madison and Captain Pym. Never expected to get much further, with my background, but he must’ve seen something in me.” 

“Your background?” Hopkins asked.

“My mother was Cherokee, my father a freedman. Most people would count that as two strikes against me.” Rhodes replied, while the dragon simply looked confused. 

“I’ll explain later, my dear,” Anthony reassured him. The Corps was by necessity more liberal than the prevailing society, with longwings insisting on female captains, as well as most dragons paying no heed to class or race when selecting their companions. Anthony had seen for himself a son of a wealthy senator passed over in favor of a bright, but barely-literate farm boy. But prejudices still reared their ugly heads; it was simply human nature. 

“Will you return to the covert with us, so we may continue this celebration with the rest of the company?” Sousa asked, once the bottle was empty. “We are also expecting Laurens and Captain Wilson either late today or tomorrow, and it would look well to have our entire complement on site.” 

“I accept the invitation, Commodore.” Anthony stood, albeit a bit unsteadily, as he had forgotten to eat breakfast, and the wine had gone to his head. Hopkins also got to his feet, moving cautiously, so as not to disturb the rest of his friends. 

“Anthony, would you put my harness on me, so we may fly back to the covert with Hancock?” 

“I don’t think you’re quite ready to carry me yet, my dear,” Anthony responded carefully, not wanting to hurt the young dragon’s feelings. “You still haven’t flown with more than a hundredweight yet, and I weigh more than half again that.” 

“But I have,” Hopkins admitted, with both pride and a touch of guilt. “I carried a full-grown sheep from the covert’s paddock all the way to Hancock’s pavilion when I was visiting the other day. And I flew from here across the lake and back with all the training weights and a bushel of wheat in a sack besides. That was at least twelve stone total, according to Peter.” Anthony shot a look at his apprentice, who shrugged contritely. He’d known how stubborn and eager to prove himself Hopkins was, but he hadn’t accounted for him having such a willing accomplice. 

“You see how they conspire against me,” he complained to Sousa, mock-seriously. “And has no one told you, Hopkins, that polite dragons do not play with their food?” 

“It was dead already -- I could not carry a live sheep, it would struggle too much and make a horrible sound, besides,” Hopkins replied earnestly.

“Alas, I have no riding harness or winter gear,” Anthony knew he was losing the battle. 

Virginia spoke up. “We brought harnesses and gear for you and Peter both, assuming you would wish to fly back with us.” 

“And so the conspiracy grows! I fear a full mutiny is inevitable.” Anthony spoke with a smile. Rhodes -- who had drank more than his share of the wine in an attempt to warm up -- snickered, which made them all break out in laughter. Within the hour, they were ready to make the trip back to the covert. Peter would ride along on Hancock, while Anthony and Hopkins prepared for their first flight together.

“Now, if I have the slightest thought that you are flagging in any way, I will tell you to land, you know that, my dear,” Anthony told his companion as he latched his riding harness onto that of Hopkins, a folded blanket serving as makeshift saddle. He’d had to punch additional holes in the straps, letting them out to their full length, as well as adjusting the yoke to accommodate the dragon’s broadening neck. Hopkins would need an entirely new rig very soon. 

“Yes, Anthony. And Hancock has already said she will fly below me in case I tire,” he responded patiently, as he launched them into the sky. “But you are not so heavy -- I could do this all day.” 

“Thankfully, you do not have to. A half-hour will suffice,” Anthony responded, still concerned for his companion’s well-being. But then he was overcome with the joy of being in the air on dragonback once again. Despite the bitter cold, his heart soared; he’d had no idea how much I missed this experience. 

Hopkins flew well, despite his unaccustomed burden, his wingbeats steady as clockwork. Anthony compared his mental map to the landscape below, consulting his compass to confirm their path. Despite the improvised nature of his perch -- seated on Hopkins’ shoulder blades instead of the notch at the nape that was the customary position of a captain -- they moved well together, and would soon be wholly in tune. 

The flight was over surprisingly quickly; the buildings of the covert appearing below them. While the dragons had stayed relatively warm with their exertion, their passengers were chilled to the bone. Anthony dismounted a little awkwardly, saddle sore and stiff with the cold, but he paused to praise Hopkins; placing his gloved hands on either side of his companion’s face and leaning in to touch their foreheads together. “You flew magnificently, my dear. I could not ask for nor dream of better.” 

“Nor I, Anthony. I can’t imagine my life without you.”


	8. Chapter 8

After making sure the dragons were well-situated in their pavilion, the company made their way to the main building to join the other aviators. Anthony found himself vaguely embarrassed to be the recipient of so much congratulations and goodwill, but accepted all the well wishes as gracefully as he could manage. 

They sat down to dinner, which was a much more casual affair than the holiday meal. Anthony and Peter joined Virginia, Rhodes, Carter and Banner, and they talked about the newest member of the covert, who was to arrive any day. Carter told them that Wilson had served for nearly a decade on Lafayette with both her aunt and herself, before transferring to the Great Falls covert near the capital two years ago, where he harnessed Laurens the previous spring.

“Captain Wilson has quite the military background. His grandfather served in the 1st Rhode Island Regiment during the War for Independence. Wilson’s father also served in the late war, under Commodore Chauncey; however, our new compatriot is the first aviator in his family. Wilson is well versed in the theory of dragon formations, specializing in offensive maneuvers. He has a devilish sense of humor, but also a kind heart. I’m looking forward to working with him again,” she finished. 

“The Commodore said that Captain Wilson’s dragon is a Bronze Liberty. I’m not familiar with that breed,” Anthony commented. 

“They’re fairly new - a mix of Honneur-d'Or, yellow reaper and a coastal native breed whose name escapes me,” Banner explained. “The latter feeds primarily on fish and exhibits an interesting hunting technique, similar to falcons. The dragons climb to a great height, then fold their wings back and in, which allows them to stoop with great speed and aim, diving deeply to catch larger fish. The Bronze Liberties use this technique as well, which can be invaluable during a battle.” 

Anthony tried to imagine riding a dragon during a steep dive, and it made his eyes water. Some sort of protection would be needed; glass would be too fragile in the heat of battle, so perhaps isinglass instead. A visor would be bulky, so perhaps some sort of spectacles, with a strap instead of earpieces, and leather around the edges to fit snugly against the face...

“Captain Stark, are you off daydreaming again?” Virginia’s laughing question brought him back to the here and now. He was a little surprised at her formal address, considering how they had traded endearments during intimate moments the week before. Perhaps, in reflection, she hadn’t appreciated being compared to peppershot; ‘explosive and intoxicating’. But he replied in kind. 

“Apologies, Lieutenant. I was just thinking of what it would be like to fly on such a dragon. I assume they fall in the middleweight category, based on their parentage?” 

Banner said yes, they were, which led into a discussion of the current state of the Corps in terms of dragon size and of special abilities. Anthony suspected this was as much for his benefit -- having been away from the Corps for nearly two decades -- as for Peter’s education. There was still a handful of Flamme-de-Gloire in active service (a gift from the French during the War for Independence) as well as a few longwings originally brought over from England before the war. But both populations were aging rapidly and despite careful breeding management, were still quite rare. Neither the fire-breathing nor acid-spitting traits carried over consistently to their hybrid descendants, which compounded their rarity. 

The majority of the Corps dragons were light to middleweights, 6 to approximately 18 tons, with the couriers running from 2-6 tons. Heavyweights were practically non-existent, as only a handful of dragons of that size had been transported across the ocean by either the British or the French during the previous century. In terms of the native breeds, none that would fall in the heavyweight class existed east of the Mississippi.

A few brave souls on the frontier were trying to tame examples of the large native breeds that preyed on the buffalo herds of the prairies, but with little success as of yet. Most of the native tribes believed dragons to be emissaries of the gods; therefore their priests and shamans were the only ones to form partnerships. Harnessing them for military purposes seemed blasphemy, even if the dragons themselves were perfectly content in the role. 

Peter, who had just finished reading Captain Will Laurence’s memoirs, asked how the Dragon Plague of ‘06-’07 had affected the American Aerial Corps. Banner replied that it still wasn’t clear why the breeding stock imported to America was not affected to the same extent as the European dragon population. Halifax had been hard hit, it was true, but strict quarantine measures were enacted quickly enough to protect both the British and American coverts in the Great Lakes border area until the cure arrived. The effort to save their companions had overridden the strained politics of the time. 

Anthony, Rhodes and Virginia braved the cold evening to check on Hancock and Hopkins. After the morning’s flight, the dragons had opted to stay indoors and socialize. Knowlton had come over to Hancock’s pavilion to visit, and they were playing draughts. Peter had taught it to Hopkins and now he was showing the other dragons how the game worked. 

“But if I move my piece there, you will capture it on your turn!” Knowlton complained. 

“Well, yes, but you have no other moves you can make.” Hancock then leaned over and whispered into Knowlton’s ear. She brightened, then made the move in question, sliding the piece across the board with the tip of a talon. When Hopkins captured her man on his next move, she was then able to not only double-jump and capture two of his in return, but also land in the king row. She had some difficulty in handling the round game piece with her talons, and ended up stabbing it somewhat frustratedly to perform the jumps. 

“Well done, Hancock and Knowlton!” Potts praised, while all three of them applauded. Hopkins looked down his nose at his captain and said “Et tu, Brute?” 

“I have come neither to bury nor to praise you, my dear, simply to see how you are getting along,” he replied. “It looks as if we will need to make a dragon-sized draughts board.” 

“Oh, yes, please! And perhaps backgammon as well,” Hopkins added, as Peter had been teaching him that pastime as well. Then he cocked his head, as did the other two dragons. After a moment, the rest of them heard wingbeats. 

“That must be Laurens and Captain Wilson.” 

Going outside to greet their new cohorts, they saw the Bronze Liberty coming in for a landing. The breed name was quite apt, Anthony thought, as Laurens’ body was an iridescent light brown, with red and white striped wings looking almost like giant feathers. He was roughly the same size as Hancock and Lafayette, but his wingtips were more pointed than theirs and slightly swept back.

“Welcome to the Adirondack covert, fellow aviators! Please, come warm yourselves!” Rhodes had taken the initiative, gesturing toward Lafayette’s pavilion. Laurens’ eventual residence was still being prepared; a fire had not yet been stoked and the building would be much colder than either of the occupied pavilions. Captain Carter and her lieutenants had come out to check on Lafayette earlier, and she took on the introductions. Captain Wilson appeared to be in his mid-thirties, of average height, and build, which was typical of an aviator. He seemed quite at ease, bowing with a smile when introduced to Anthony. 

His lieutenants, Triplett and Hunter were a little more reserved as they made their brief greetings, as they were overseeing the process of unloading their baggage. Laurens’ flight crew numbered a dozen in total; the full compliment for a middleweight. Adding in their four ground crew members, the general confusion led Anthony to brave the cold in favor of a few moments of quiet. Commodore Sousa and Captain Lang were coming across the clearing to meet the new arrivals and invite the officers back to the main building when Anthony crossed paths with them. 

“I take it that was Laurens and Captain Wilson,” Sousa said in greeting. “Did he mention if he had any messages from Senior Captain Carter?” 

“Excuse me, sir?” Anthony blinked in confusion, surely he had misheard. He had assumed the elder Carter had passed on, as very few dragons would take another captain as long as their original companion lived. 

“I had hoped there might be a message. She always had a fine mind for intelligence and strategy, and still assists the staff at Headquarters...” Again, Anthony noticed a distant, fond look on his commander’s face. 

“I couldn’t say, sir. It was all a bit of a muddle, with everyone all milling around.” He felt as if he had missed something, but Sousa simply clapped him on the back as he and Lang continued on to the pavilion. Anthony continued his brisk walk to the main building, but was intercepted by Miss Potts. 

“Anthony, is all well? Hopkins wondered where you had gone.” He was warmed by her use of his given name, along with her touch on his arm. 

“It was getting a little close in there for my tastes,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re here, as I need to ask you something. You addressed me rather formally this morning. Was it because Rhodes was sitting with us? You mentioned having been involved with him, and...”

“Oh no, it wasn’t that at all,” she interrupted. “It was just that.... I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, or if you wanted...” It was uncharacteristic to see her flustered, so Anthony took her into his arms. 

“Virginia, my dearest, I count myself among the luckiest of men to be the subject of your affection, and I intend to reciprocate wholeheartedly in whatever way and for as long as you’ll let me. I would shout your praise from the rooftops, or conceal my adoration in the depths of the sea, whatever pleases you most.” 

She laughed softly. “Such a silver tongue... how could I help but succumb to your wiles?” 

“To be fair, it was your wiles that ensnared me first, there underneath the mistletoe.” That earned him another kiss, as they linked arms and returned to the main building. They had just settled in next to the fire in the dining hall when everyone else returned. Anthony wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, with he and Virginia sitting so close to one another, hands entwined, but not an eyebrow was raised; rather, Rhodes and Carter both gave them a nod and a smile, and Peter grinned widely. 

“I suppose with the new additions to our company, there will have to be some rearrangement of accommodations,” Virginia murmured in his ear. “Doubling up might not be out of the question.” 

“I wonder if Captain Lang snores,” Anthony pondered, just to see her look of amused affront. However, as Peter volunteered to move into Hancock’s barracks along with the midwingmen, there were enough rooms in the main building for the senior officers. Anthony spoke briefly with Captain Wilson, as well as his lieutenants, but found himself making excuses to retire for the evening after such an event-filled day.

He was just about to extinguish the candle when there was a knock at his door. Virginia stood there, in a dressing robe. “I can’t speak for Captain Lang, but I’ve been told I do occasionally snore,” she confided, a wicked smile playing around her lips. 

“Thank goodness I generally sleep soundly, then.” 

Afterwards, as he traced the line of her cheekbone with his fingertips, she said, “I suppose I should explain about Rhodes.”

“No, my darling,” Anthony interrupted, “I am quite aware that affairs between men and women in the Corps are handled quite differently than those in so-called ‘respectable society’ and for that I am grateful. You need never explain yourself to me.” 

“There’s less to explain than you might think,” she replied quietly. “We never... you see, after I made my intentions clear -- as I had to with you -- James said that while he was quite fond of me, he did not desire me. In fact, he said he doesn’t desire anyone, not in that way.” 

“Neither women nor men?” Anthony asked. He’d known aviators who preferred those of their own sex; Anthony saw them as fellow humans simply in search of companionship; who they loved was of no consequence to him. 

“No, neither. And he seems content to be so. I trust this does not change your estimation of him?” Her face was as serious as he’d ever seen it. 

“Not at all, dear one. Rhodes is a fine aviator and a good man. His private life is exactly that: private.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of new characters popping up in this chapter; some of whom I adore and some of whom I do not.

Anthony hadn’t seen so many dragons or aviators in one place in twenty years. The Niagara covert had grown by leaps and bounds since he had briefly been stationed here during the late war. It had taken he and Hopkins two long days to fly the nearly 250 miles across the state. They had built up to it over the past month, with flights to Saratoga Springs and Albany, with their final training flight to the courier outpost at Syracuse, being right at 100 miles one way. 

While Hopkins was now capable of carrying both Anthony and Peter from the workshop to the covert, for this long trip Anthony was travelling solo and light, with but a bedroll, a change of clothing and some provisions, along with the standard flying gear. Hopkins had developed a talent for soaring, his oversized wingspan catching the rising thermals so he could cover nearly a mile with scarcely a dozen flaps of his wings. While they traveled at a much slower pace than when actively flying, it allowed Hopkins some rest. However, the young dragon was still exhausted by the time they arrived, landing late in the afternoon, and Anthony was not feeling much better.

“At least we shall have companionship on the return voyage, my dear,” Anthony said, stretching stiffened muscles. “I must go deliver my messages straightaway.” Doctor Banner had determined that the longwing egg that Lafayette had sired, as well as two other eggs currently incubating at the Adirondack covert were within a few weeks of hatching. Prospective captains had been identified the previous month and were currently stationed at the Niagara and Long Island coverts. After flipping a coin, Captain Lang and Knowlton headed south, while they had gone west. 

Anthony waved down a passing ensign. “Pardon me - I have a message from the Adirondack covert regarding an upcoming hatching. Could you please direct me to Commodore Coulson? My dragon, Hopkins, also needs to be fed and watered.” 

“Certainly sir! I’ll take care of the dragon. A fine fellow, by the looks of him. Cadet Potts, could you please escort our guest to the Commodore?” Anthony turned to see a boy... no, a girl, of about eight or nine years -- with all-too-familiar blue-green eyes and neatly plaited red-blonde hair -- cheerfully saluting them. 

“Good afternoon, sir! Right this way, please.” It took him a few moments to recover, and he nearly lost her in the crowd. Surely this was a younger sister, or niece of Virginia’s. She’d never spoken of her family, but it wasn’t out of the question to send multiple children into service. The other possibility? Well, that was something else entirely to consider.

“Welcome, Captain, to the Niagara covert. We currently have a dozen dragons in residence, not counting the couriers, since they’re always flying hither and yon. Have you come a long way? I’ve been all the way to the Vincennes covert -- that’s nearly five hundred fifty miles, and nearly a third of it over Lake Erie at that! I’m pretty sure I spotted a lake dragon, but Simmons said it was just a log. Here we are. Captain, this is Staff Officer Koenig, the Commodore’s secretary.”

Anthony had been distracted by the cadet’s chatter (which reminded him very much of Hopkins) and hadn’t realized they were already at their destination. “Thank you for your assistance, Cadet.” He presented the message pouch to the secretary, who reviewed its contents, and then asked him to wait. About five minutes later, Koenig showed Anthony in and introduced him to Commodore Philip Coulson; a man in his fifties, slightly shorter than Anthony, with a mild-mannered look about him. 

“Captain Stark, welcome to Niagara. I knew your father; he was a good man.” Coulson reached out to shake his hand. “And I was pleased to see your name back on the rolls.” 

Anthony was taken aback that the commodore knew who he was. “Thank you, sir, for your kind words. I brought news from the Adirondack covert -- the longwing and two mixed-breed eggs are ready to hatch within the next few weeks. We were told several candidates had already been selected from the northwestern coverts.” 

“Yes, two for the longwing and three total for the other eggs. I believe one is a Reaper/lightweight Native cross and the other is some sort of Pecheur/anglewing mix?” 

“That is my understanding. There should be a full report from Doctor Banner, along with several letters in the message pouch I left with your secretary.” 

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sure you’re tired from your flight, so I won’t keep you.” 

“Much appreciated, sir. I’ll ask your secretary for directions to the dining hall.” 

“Unless you’re absolutely famished, I’d like you to join me and the candidates for dinner, so you have a chance to meet them.” Coulson offered. 

“That’s very kind, sir, but I’m afraid I hadn’t planned ahead in terms of dressing for meals.” Anthony only had his riding coat, which was currently hanging on the rack outside Coulson’s study. His trousers were dusty, his neckcloth sweaty, and he was sure his hair was a sight. 

“I’m sure we can find you something.” Coulson stood and opened his door to speak to his secretary. “Mister Koenig, Captain Stark is in need of suitable dress for dinner tonight. Please oblige him.” 

The dress jacket was a bit loose in the shoulders, and the sleeves too long; but a fresh neckcloth, and a good brushing (both for his trousers and his hair) made him almost presentable, Anthony thought, as he looked in the glass. Coulson’s secretary had found him a room and made arrangements for the change of clothing with almost frightening efficiency. 

There was a knock on the door; it was Cadet Potts. “Hello again, sir. I’m to show you to dinner with the Commodore.” 

“Thank you, Cadet, I’m quite sure I’d get lost otherwise. How long have you been with the Corps?” Her resemblance to Virginia was remarkable and he couldn’t stifle his curiosity. 

“I joined last year, sir, but since my grandparents live in town, I’ve been around the covert ever since I can remember. Uncle Phil calls me a pest and a nuisance, but I know he’s just teasing. I’m still in basic training, of course, but I might be assigned to Burr and Captain Garrett. He’s a copper mix and rather lazy. The dragon I mean, not the captain. If I had my druthers, I’d rather fly on Franklin, since I’ve known him forever. Here’s the Commodore’s dining room. Enjoy your meal, sir.” And she was off again, leaving Anthony bemused.

“I see you’ve met our little whirlwind,” Coulson said, coming down the hall. “Smart as a whip, but quite the chatterbox once she gets to know you.” They entered the dining room to find the rest of their party waiting. Anthony was introduced to the candidates for the longwing: Barbara Morse and Natalya Romanova, both midwingmen. He then met Lieutenants Grant Ward and Michael Peterson and Midwingman Samuel Koenig, (apparently the identical twin brother of Coulson’s secretary), who were standing for the two other eggs. Coulson’s first lieutenants were also in attendance at the meal -- Mackenzie and May -- so it was quite a large party. 

At dinner, Anthony was seated between Mister Mackenzie, a burly man in his late thirties, and Miss Romanova, a young woman of perhaps five and twenty years, with startlingly red hair and a look of reserve about her. Through the course of the dinner, Anthony learned that her father was Russian and her mother a Native, and that they had come east along the fur trading routes to the Upper Great Lakes area. 

Romanova spoke English, Russian, and French, as well as a smattering of several Native languages. She had even bartered with dragons for furs. “You’d be amazed at how many pelts a dragon will give you for a few strings of glass beads, as long as you don’t insist that the furs are all in one piece.” she said with just a hint of a mischievous smile. 

“I bow to your ingenious business sense, Miss Romanova. So, what drew you to the Corps?” 

“They were in need of a translator, and I found I liked the lifestyle. I have been serving with Rochambeau under Captain Dernier, and he seemed to think well enough of my abilities to recommend me as a candidate, despite my short term of service.” And while she spoke pleasantly enough, he detected a hint of defensiveness in her manner. He quite understood her feelings; the aviator community was quite close-knit, and sometimes was standoffish when it came to outsiders. After dinner, he chatted briefly with Lieutenant May.

“The good Commodore recommended me as candidate for the longwing, but I turned it down.” May confided in Anthony, once the after-dinner sherry had made a few rounds. “I much prefer the role of second-in-command, and am too old to mess about with a hatchling.” 

“I thought the same thing, but Fate had other plans,” Anthony responded. He told her the improbable story of his and Hopkins’ bonding, delving more deeply into his own background than he had originally intended. But she listened without any apparent judgement or scrutiny. 

As their conversation drew to a close, Anthony got to his feet, his head swimming slightly, from exhaustion as well as the drink. “Commodore Coulson, where might I find my dragon? I should like to check on him before retiring.” Perhaps that last glass of sherry had been a little too much. 

“Allow me to inquire, Captain.” Coulson rang the bell, and a few minutes later, Cadet Potts appeared at the door, ready to escort Anthony to Hopkins. 

“Oh - so you are Hopkins’ captain! Is he truly six months old? He seems so small, even for being a native breed. My, but he is clever. We played a game of draughts and he almost beat me! And then he asked for a book - however did you teach him to read? Does he speak any other languages? Some dragons do, you know, if they learned them in the shell or when very young. I am taking French lessons now, and would like to learn German.” Anthony was overwhelmed, trying to get a word in edgewise. 

“Hopkins is closer to five and a half months old. He should weigh between three and four tons by his first birthday next autumn, and be about 5 yards long, nose to tail. He can also play backgammon. Hopkins does love to read, but needs someone to hold the book and turn the pages. My apprentice, Peter Parker taught him; I just helped a little along the way. He speaks the dragon language used around our home covert, and some French that I have taught him.” As he answered her last question, they came out into one of the communal pavilions and he spotted Hopkins, curled up and nearly half-asleep.

“Hello, my dear. Have you been well cared for?”

“Oh, yes, Anthony. I had an entire sheep for dinner. They have a spring-fed fountain here as well and my, that was refreshing to drink! Hello, Elizabeth! Anthony, this is Cadet Elizabeth Potts. She was visiting with me earlier and said we should go see the falls before we leave tomorrow. Oh, and you must meet Franklin -- he is the grandest dragon I have ever seen!” 

“He is one of only four heavyweights in the Corps,” Elizabeth interrupted, “along with Washington, Jefferson and Hamilton. Washington is companion to Admiral Phillips, of course, and Admiral Fury flies Hamilton. Commodore Dooley and Jefferson are stationed all the way south in New Orleans.” Anthony was sure she had much more to say, but he could see how tired Hopkins was, so he interrupted. 

“Sleep well, my dear Hopkins, and I shall see you in the morning. Cadet Potts, would you show me back to my room, please?” He had once more gotten turned around and wasn’t quite sure where his quarters were. Yes, that last glass of sherry had been a bit too much. 

Staff Officer Koenig came for him in the morning, with a large mug of coffee in hand. 

“You are an angel from heaven, Mister Koenig, and I say that with the utmost respect.” 

“Duly noted, sir,” he replied with a patient smile. “Captain Garrett has informed me he expects to leave by ten o’clock for Adirondack. Burr is being prepared for the journey as we speak; they will be representing the Niagara covert and providing transport. We have runners getting your dragon ready as well.” 

Anthony was thankful for the overcast sky, as bright sunshine would have been the death of him. As it was, he flinched and squinted when he exited the building. He saw a stocky, middleweight copper being readied for flight; he assumed it was Burr. Looking around he spotted Hopkins and, not surprisingly, Potts was assisting with Hopkins’ harnessing (and probably talking the dragon’s ears off as well). 

“Captain Stark?” Anthony turned at the sound of his name to see another aviator, about his own age and dressed for flight, stepping up onto the porch. “I’m John Garrett, Burr’s captain,” he said, gesturing towards the copper. “We’ll be joining you on your return to the Adirondack covert. How fast is that little native breed of yours, anyways?” Garrett’s dismissive gesture towards Hopkins rankled Anthony, but he replied with all the politeness due a captain of the Corps. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain. Hopkins kept a steady pace of about twelve knots for our journey here; but with a tailwind, we might average closer to fourteen on the return flight. What is Burr’s cruising speed?”

“ Ten knots, and we will take rest breaks throughout the day. Being an older, more experienced fellow, Burr knows how to husband his strength. I expect to take the better part of three days to make the trip. I trust we shall arrive in time?” Anthony heard the veiled insult in Garrett’s words. 

“As you know, egg incubation is an inexact science at best, but Doctor Banner is quite knowledgable and I believe his estimate of two to three weeks to be valid.” Anthony answered, a bit stiffly. “The eggs have been very well cared for and we expect healthy, thriving dragonets. Do you know if the Commodore will be seeing us off?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes, I will,” Coulson answered, coming up behind them. He handed a sealed document pouch to Garrett, saying, “Please pass this along to Commodore Sousa; he will likely have some replies. I expect you and Burr to remain at Adirondack until the eggs have hatched.” 

“Yes, sir,” Garrett replied, with a curt nod. 

Coulson turned to Anthony and shook his hand. “Normally, Franklin and I would be making this trip, as it isn’t every day that a longwing egg hatches, but we have some matters to deal with locally. I’m afraid the border dispute between Michigan and Ohio is flaring up again. It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Stark. Safe travels.” 

“Thank you, sir. I am sorry I did not have the opportunity to meet Franklin. I understand Cadet Potts was kind enough to introduce Hopkins to him, and he was quite impressed with your dragon.” 

Coulson chuckled. “Speaking of Elizabeth, I believe she has a letter for you to carry to her mother. Is Lieutenant Potts standing as candidate for the longwing as well? If so, give her my best wishes.” Anthony was momentarily speechless to have his suspicions confirmed in such an offhand way.

“I... yes... certainly, sir. Thank you,” Anthony stuttered, then excused himself to walk over to Hopkins, taking a few moments to compose himself again. 

“Anthony, Elizabeth said if we leave right now, we might have time to fly over the falls and return before Burr is ready for our journey back home. She can give us directions once we are in the air.” While Anthony was glad Hopkins had made a friend, he felt a little outmaneuvered by their scheming. Elizabeth, it seemed, was as audacious as her mother. 

“Cadet Potts, are you in the habit of inviting yourself onto other dragons?” Anthony arched an eyebrow at the girl, who turned shame-faced under his gaze.

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” she replied quietly, staring down at the ground. 

“Oh, Anthony, it was not her fault. I asked if she could give me directions, as I so wanted to see the waterfalls. Please, may she come with us? She scarcely weighs anything, and it is only a few miles there and back. I have rested well and am quite ready for the long trip back home,” Hopkins pleaded. Anthony remembered their spectacle and grandeur and knew his companion would be enthralled by the natural wonder. 

“Very well, my dear -- you know that I spoil you terribly, don’t you? Now, put your knee out so Miss Potts may climb aboard.” The girl smiled brightly as she scrambled up onto Hopkins’ back, perching on her knees between his wings and snapping the carabiners of her riding harness onto his straps. Anthony followed, taking his seat. “Give us our heading, Cadet.” 

They could scarcely shout to one another above the roar of the cascading water, but Hopkins’ excitement and sense of awe was evident in his playful swoops and turns, which took into account the turbulence of the air over the falls. It was truly a magnificent sight and Anthony was thankful to have had the opportunity to experience it again. But all too soon, he gave the order to fly back to the covert.

“Thank you, Captain Stark,” Potts said as she dismounted. “I wish you and Hopkins safe travels, and that we may see each other again soon. The Commodore told me that Hancock is stationed at the Adirondack covert now. Would you please take this letter to my mother? Lieutenant Virginia Potts -- she serves with Commodore Sousa.” The girl handed an envelope up to Anthony, who placed it inside his coat. Hopkins made as if to say something, but Anthony nudged him to silence. 

“I would be happy to oblige, and I shall tell her that I made the pleasure of your acquaintance.“ Anthony was not looking forward to that conversation, but it was in no way the fault of the charming girl in front of him. He bowed to her, as best he could from his position atop Hopkins’ shoulders. They then looked to Burr, waiting for the “Go Aloft” signal. 

After the cadet had gone, Hopkins said, surprised, “I did not know your Virginia had a daughter.” 

“Neither did I, my dear. Neither did I.”


	10. Chapter 10

The first day’s flight was tedious. Not only had the weather turned cold and damp, but Burr plodded along at only about eight knots, and stopped to rest roughly every four hours. Hopkins tried to engage him in conversation, but he seemed supremely uninterested in interacting with the young dragon beyond the bare minimum. 

“Anthony,” Hopkins said, late in the afternoon, “I am dreadfully bored. Could you read to me?” 

“I am sorry, my dear, I didn’t think to pack a book within reach, and I don’t think I could turn the pages with gloves on. But we should not need to stay so close to Burr. Would flying a bit further afield give you something to do?” As Garrett had already determined their destination for the day to be a courier station just outside Rochester, there could be no harm in flying ahead or perhaps scouting off to either side of their path.

“Perhaps,” Hopkins sighed in reply. Anthony pulled out the flags and signaled for “independent patrol” and received the “Acknowledge” signal in return from Lieutenant Morse. He and Hopkins had both studied the signal books closely over the last few weeks in preparation not only for this voyage, but for the formation drills they would be starting upon their return to the Adirondack covert. 

Hopkins swooped to the north, crossing over fields and forests, eventually catching a glimpse of Lake Ontario. “Oh, Anthony, the water reaches all the way to the horizon! Is this what the ocean looks like?” 

“Yes, but on a much grander scale. If we are assigned to one of the coverts on the east coast -- Long Island, Kitty Hawk or Choate Island -- you will see for yourself. Come, let us see if Burr has reached the station.” 

They flew back to find the dragon gliding in for a landing in a pasture near the station, scaring off a flock of sheep in the process. Garrett seemed to have little consideration for others, Anthony had noticed. Hopkins alighted closer to the courier station and Anthony proceeded to make arrangements with the caretaker for feeding his dragon. Knowing that it sometimes took the better part of a month for a supplies reimbursement chit to be processed through the Corps, he paid in coin for the sheep that was to be Hopkins’ dinner. 

“Stark, when you signaled for independent patrol, I did not expect you to go haring off for over an hour!” Garrett stormed as he and Ward approached. “You should have remained within sight of the signal flags. We are under orders, not gallivanting across the country as we please.” 

“My apologies, sir. I thought Hopkins would enjoy seeing the lake.” 

“Since when does a dragon’s enjoyment of anything matter? If you continue to spoil that creature, he’ll be no good in combat... taking off at the first shot of a cannon, or refusing to close with an enemy.” Garrett responded. “Not that the runt would make any difference in a battle,” he added in an aside to Ward. 

“Sir, bravery and size have very little relation to one another. Napoleon was ample evidence of that,” Anthony replied tersely. “Hopkins would make an admirable lookout -- his sight is acute and I daresay he reads signals as well as any officer.” 

“Hmph -- just be thankful you can afford his keep yourself and the Corps doesn’t have to waste money on him.” Apparently he’d seen Anthony paying the caretaker for the sheep. “I assume you’re related to that rich fool who blew himself to pieces tinkering with those damn rockets at the end of the war?” 

“That, sir, was my father,” Anthony spat from between gritted teeth. He was on the verge of demanding satisfaction from Garrett -- prohibition against dueling in the Corps be damned -- when he felt a hand on his arm. 

“Captain Stark, please come with me. I need to speak with you.” It was Midwingman Romanova, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Garrett made a curt motion of dismissal, and Anthony turned to follow Romanova away from the caretaker’s shack and his fellow captain.

“What is it, Midwingman? Is Hopkins all right?” Perhaps the cold, damp air combined with the stress of two long flights so close together had aggravated his lungs. Anthony had brought Banner’s herbal treatment with them, although Hopkins hadn’t had an attack for weeks, with the last one only lasting a few minutes. 

“He is well... but I do not think the same is true of you at the moment, sir.” Anthony realized he was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking. “I thought it best to separate you from Garrett. I heard what he was saying. He is _nekulturny_ , a blackguard who should not be in charge of a mule team, much less a dragon.” 

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Romanova. But I recommend you be more civil when referring to a superior officer.” She snorted with derision.

“Superior in rank only. Besides, I have already earned Captain Garrett’s disfavor, by refusing his request to warm his bed. Why do you think I was assigned as lookout today?” Anthony had wondered at that; as Burr’s crew was also making the trip, it seemed odd that Romanova and Morse had been assigned duties out in the weather, while the others had enjoyed the shelter of the traveling tent. “He’ll be held accountable for his loose words eventually.” She casually twirled a knife that was suddenly in her hand. “Or maybe I’ll just drink him senseless.” A sly grin stole across her face. 

“Remind me never to make an enemy of you, Miss Romanova.” 

After securing the sheep for Hopkins’ dinner -- Romanova handily slitting the creature’s throat -- she and Anthony walked over to a tavern about a half mile down along post road from the courier station. The rest of the aviators were already seated, Burr’s crew at one table and the other officers seated separately. A young woman with a fiddle was providing the evening’s entertainment and Anthony found himself enjoying the conversation and the camaraderie. Mindful of the distance remaining to their destination, he imbibed only lightly, and returned to their bivouac while the full moon was still high in the sky, leaving Garrett and his team to their revels. 

“I talked to Burr while you were gone,” Hopkins said, as Anthony got him settled in the outpost’s shelter. “He is nearly as old as Lafayette and Garrett is his second captain. He told me about his first captain, Whitehall, and how the man did not always follow orders, but always had explanations as for why he chose his own path. Burr did not say what happened to him, but he did not seem too distraught. ‘As long as I am well-fed, I do not care who my captain is’, was his comment. I do not understand that, Anthony.” 

“Nor do I, my dear.” He had already sensed that there was little affection between Garrett and Burr, and now he understood better the reason why. “I am sorry you have such poor company on this trip. But we shall soon be back home, with Hancock and Knowlton.” 

The next morning, Anthony went to speak to Garrett, who was in a foul mood due to overindulgence the night before. “Sir, I believe it would be in our best interest if I were to fly ahead and inform Commodore Sousa to expect not only the five candidates, but your fine dragon and talented crew. We are a small covert and will need to make arrangements for proper provisions for a dragon of Burr’s stature, as well as suitable accommodations for yourself and your officers.”

He figured a bit of flattery would not go amiss, and Garrett reluctantly agreed to his suggestion. Hopkins was glad to be able to fly at his customary speed, and they soon left the larger dragon behind. The weather had improved as well, and both their moods had lightened considerably by the time they stopped to take a break. Hopkins drank greedily from a nearby stream, while Anthony enjoyed a light meal of bread and cheese. 

“Now that you know Virginia is capable of bearing children, are you planning on starting a family soon?” Anthony nearly choked on the bite of bread he’d just taken. 

“Why do you ask, Hopkins?” Anthony wheezed, thankful at least that Hopkins had waited until they were alone to ask a personal question in such frank language. 

“It is only that... well... Hancock is concerned about her Daniel. She nearly lost him once, and he is getting rather old, for a human. And of course Lafayette is on his second captain, as is Burr....” Hopkins trailed off, scratching furrows in the dirt with his front claws distractedly.

“My dear, I know I am older that the typical captain of a dragon of your age. However, I am in good health and we shall have many more years together.” Anthony stroked his companion’s muzzle; Hopkins leaned into the contact, taking comfort from it. “Shall we continue our voyage?” 

The wind was at their backs and they made very good time that afternoon, finally landing just outside Utica in an empty pasture. Anthony walked to the farmhouse to ask permission to camp on the property as well as to purchase a meal for Hopkins. The farmer was concerned about the presence of such a dangerous beast, despite Anthony giving every assurance that his dragon would not run amok. After offering a pretty penny, he ended up with a stringy-looking goat and a bale of hay to spread out for their bed. 

The ground cloth was just large enough for Hopkins to curl up on, and Anthony pulled the tarpaulin over them both, as he positioned himself in the curve of his companion’s body. He woke the next morning stiff and sore, but Hopkins’ body heat had kept the chill from his bones. After some stretches and a walk around the grounds, they both felt ready to once again resume their journey. 

They had an easy flight that morning, arriving back at the covert midday. Hopkins landed next to the pavilion under renovation, so Anthony could check on the progress the workmen had made during his absence. The foreman confirmed that the piping had been run per his instructions, and the tiling was complete. All that remained was to connect the boiler and test the system, which was in process. In the meanwhile, Hopkins had gone to see Hancock.

Anthony found himself postponing the short walk back to the main buildings, supervising the boiler testing instead. He didn’t know what to say to Virginia; other than that he was confused and hurt. It wasn’t the fact that she had a daughter that upset him; he understood that natural children were a somewhat common occurrence in the aviator community. What bothered him was that she had never said a word about her daughter; he thought them close enough to share the important parts of their pasts. 

“Anthony?” He turned to see a familiar figure standing just outside the pavilion. “Hopkins said you had a letter for me... from Elizabeth.” Her voice trembled slightly. He pulled the letter out of his coat and walked over to her, holding it out. 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit creased. We had to sleep rough last night,” he replied, forcing a casual air. Their hands briefly touched as she took the letter. “Cadet Potts was good enough to be my escort around the covert. She’s a charming girl; Hopkins was quite taken with her.” 

“And she with him, I imagine. Elizabeth absolutely dotes on the dragons of the covert. She’d sleep on Franklin’s back if Commodore Coulson allowed it.” Virginia finally met his eyes. “I’m not ashamed of her, you know,” she added, a bit defiantly. 

“Nor should you be. Elizabeth is smart, brave and kind; very much like her mother. I only wish you had felt you could speak of her to me before now.” 

“I wish I had as well, Anthony. I had no good excuse not to; only poor ones.” She rested her forehead against his chest and he gently embraced her. “I feared I would lose you.” 

“Virginia, I will be honest. I was, and am, a little wounded that I did not know about Elizabeth before; I thought us closer than that. But I said before that you need never explain yourself to me, and I stand by that. I bless the path that brought you and I together, and I love the woman you are. Meeting your daughter has not changed that. She takes after her mother and will become a fine aviator.” She lifted her head and smiled at that, tracks of tears fresh on her cheeks that he kissed away. 

“Now, I must go see Sousa, and inform him that we will soon have another middleweight and his complement of crew in our midst, as well as five candidates for the eggs.” 

“A middleweight? I thought Commodore Coulson and Franklin were coming for the longwing hatching. Admiral Fury just arrived this morning with the prospective captains from the east coast coverts.” 

“Unfortunately, there was another matter the Commodore had to attend to. Captain Garrett and Burr are on their way instead and should arrive sometime tomorrow.” At Garrett’s name, Virginia's expression grew sharp, but she waved it away when he asked what concerned her. They walked together back to the main building, as Anthony had to report to the Commodore.


	11. Chapter 11

The door to the Commodore’s study was ajar, and as Anthony approached, he heard an oddly familiar woman’s voice: “I can’t help but feel this is something more than coincidence; to have a dozen different conflicts break out along our southwestern borders within the last two months. Daniel, help me convince Nicholas.”

“She makes some good points, sir. Yes, there have been outbreaks of violence here and there between settlers and the tribes since the defeat of the Indian Removal Act six years ago, but never to this extent. And you know that Jackson is simply going to try rabble-rousing again as part of his campaign. He might just be more successful this time.” 

Anthony knocked on the door tentatively, not sure if he should interrupt such a serious conversation. He was told to enter, and found Sousa with his two guests, looking over a large map spread out over the Commodore’s desk. A tall, dark man with an eyepatch glared at him from across the room, while the woman he’d heard from the hallway was seated at the desk, papers held oddly close to her face. 

“Admiral Fury, may I present Captain Anthony Stark, of Hopkins." Anthony bowed as Sousa introduced him. "He served with me on Hancock as an ensign and midwingman...”

“Anthony? My dear boy, is it really you?” the woman interrupted, lowering the papers she held. She wore smoked spectacles, and her hair was quite grey, but Anthony still recognized her.

“Aunt Peggy?” Not really an aunt; rather a former friend of both his father and his mother. She and his father had fallen out over some matter when he was but a boy, and he hadn’t seen her in nearly three decades. Now the familiarity of her voice, with its slight accent, made perfect sense. 

Sousa looked at them both in surprise. “Mister Stark, I had no idea you knew Senior Captain Carter.” 

“Nor did I, sir. Well, not exactly.” She had always just been ‘Aunt Peggy’ to him. He vaguely remembered that she was an aviator, and when he gave it a bit of thought, realized that he’d met Lafayette before, many years ago. He supposed it was understandable that the dragon would not have remembered him from a few chance meetings so long ago. 

“I was acquainted with Howard Stark, back before the war,” Carter added. “We had a disagreement and that stubborn mule of a man forbade me from darkening his door ever again. Anthony, I lost track of you after the accident; I’m so sorry I never tried to renew our association.” She rose and used the edge of the desk to make her way towards him; when she held out her hand, he realized it was just as much to determine exactly where he was standing as it was to greet him. 

“Blasted cataracts,” she swore, as he bowed over her hand. “Been dealing with them for years. Right eye first, now the left. Had to give up flying with Lafayette. Thank the Lord he took so well to Sharon, it would have been such a blow to the Corps to lose him to the breeding grounds.”

“Can we get back to business now? Or do you have some cousins or great-uncles to add to the family reunion, Carter?” Admiral Fury broke in. “And what do you want, Stark?” 

“Sir, I came to report that Commodore Coulson sends his regrets; there was a situation on the Michigan and Ohio border he had to investigate. Captain Garrett and Burr are bringing the candidates from Niagara instead and should arrive late tomorrow. They were instructed to remain here until after the hatching, so I volunteered to fly ahead to inform the covert. Garrett has a sealed message pouch, presumably with communiques from the Commodore.” Anthony responded, more formally. 

Sousa nodded. “Thank you, Mister Stark. While I am disappointed not to have Coulson’s political insights; from a logistics standpoint, that’s actually good news. Trying to fit two heavyweights, three middleweights and two lightweights into three pavilions was quite a challenge. Now Hamilton can have a pavilion of his own, while Lafayette, Hancock, Burr and Laurens double up in the other two, with Hopkins and Knowlton fitting in wherever. Admiral, I hope Hamilton will enjoy the new steam-heated platform courtesy of our resident engineer,” he finished, gesturing to Anthony. 

“I appreciate the hospitality, but we’ll only be staying until I have a chance to review Coulson’s dispatches, as Corps business calls me elsewhere as well,” Fury replied. “Great Falls will send one of our middleweights to pick up the remaining candidates after the hatching.” Fury turned back to the map, and Anthony took the hint and excused himself. As he stepped back outside, he met up with Rhodes. 

“So, how was Niagara?” 

“Considerably changed over the past two decades,” Anthony replied. “Hopkins was quite excited to meet Franklin and to see the falls. Commodore Coulson invited me to dinner with the candidates for the hatching -- two for the longwing, and three for the other two eggs. They should be arriving late tomorrow with Captain Garrett flying on Burr. I had a charming young cadet as my escort around the covert.” 

“Oh?” Rhodes seemed suddenly on guard. 

“Yes -- and she simply doted on Hopkins.” He watched Rhodes’ expression closely as he continued, “It was rather a surprise to learn of her connection to your fellow lieutenant.” 

“I imagine it was,” Rhodes agreed, cautiously. “Miss Potts transferred from Franklin to Hancock about ten years ago, after a temporary leave of absence from the Corps. She has heeded the call of duty, but not without a cost.” His direct gaze was nearly a challenge. Anthony simply nodded, and they continued to Hancock’s pavilion. As they entered, Hopkins’ excited voice was carrying clearly across the room. 

“Elizabeth was so kind to me, Hancock. She made sure I knew where to get water and was getting fed properly. She played draughts with me when all the other dragons were sleeping. Oh, and she gave us directions to the falls -- what an awe-inspiring sight! But I do not understand why Virginia never mentioned her daughter before. I thought children were quite important to humans.” 

“Oh, she loves Elizabeth very much; but It is different with aviators. They have duties that often take them far from home, and they do not spend too much time dwelling on those who are absent. Besides, Virginia does not like to think of Elizabeth’s father. He did not treat her well. Not like your Anthony. Oh -- and here he comes now, and with my James!” 

Unlike servants, dragons were never ashamed to be caught gossiping; but Anthony was discomfited to have overheard their discussion. Despite his promise to Virginia, he found himself indecently curious to know who Elizabeth’s father was. Presumably another aviator, as the Corps tended to keep to itself socially. But after a decade, and so much movement of dragons between coverts, as well as individuals being transferred and promoted, it could have been any number of men. He told himself it did not matter. 

“Good afternoon,” Anthony greeted the dragons. “I believe I have some news regarding our guests and arrangements for their accommodations. It appears Laurens will be moving in here while Hamilton and Burr are in residence.” 

“That’s just as well,” Hancock replied, “Hamilton will need a pavilion to himself, of course, and Laurens doesn’t get along with Burr. Lafayette can tolerate him well enough, though, and I suppose Knowlton can squeeze in somewhere. Hopkins, you are welcome to stay with me, of course. You know, Anthony, having pavilions at our disposal at all is such an improvement from when I was young. We were expected to sleep out in all sorts of weather, with only trees as our shelter...” 

Hopkins was disappointed to learn that they would be flying back to the workshop that evening, as Anthony and Peter had both given up their space at the covert to the guest aviators. “It is only until the hatching,” Anthony assured his companion. “Then the remaining candidates will be going back home, as will the new dragons and their captains. Have you had an opportunity to speak with the eggs?” 

While the entrance to the incubation chamber was much too small for even Hopkins to fit through comfortably (he was now as broad around as an ox and more than twice as long) when the weather cooperated, the eggs had been brought out to the dragons so they could talk to them and check on their progress. Lafayette in particular was quite interested in his own egg, speaking to it in both French and English, telling the developing dragonet how much it would enjoy the covert and having a captain of its very own. 

“Yes, I have spoken to all three, but as they cannot yet reply, they are not very interesting,” he answered dismissively. “I should like to watch them hatch, however.”

“I’ll find out what the arrangements are, my dear.” 

Burr arrived after sunset the following day. Both captain and dragon were in a foul mood, Garrett claiming that he’d been quite unable to find adequate provisions along the route. Anthony was certain that if he’d offered some of his own funds instead of only Corps scrip, the farmers would have been more accommodating, but kept that observation to himself. In fact, as he had no desire to speak to Garrett at all, for fear of losing his temper once again. He avoided the man and his officers as much as possible while they all waited for the eggs to hatch.

Fortunately, Anthony was being kept busy, as the dragons had started their initial formation training. Hopkins and Knowlton took the lookout positions for the majority of the formations, usually flying above the three middleweights, one before and one behind. While Hopkins took pride in performing the precise movements, the repetitive patterns soon palled. 

He much preferred the close quarter training, as he could took advantage of his size and speed during these sessions. Hopkins would dart in under the guard of his middleweight opponents to lightly rake his claws across the padding on their sides, then skim away with a triumphant roar. 

Knowlton was more of a challenge when they were pitted against each other, as she was faster than he, but he had the edge on agility. Both took the exercise a little too seriously and more often than not, had minor scrapes and slashes after each encounter. Doctor Banner simply shook his head, and used the opportunity to give Peter hands-on experience in tending their wounds. 

In addition to formations and close quarter training, they also staged mock battles, with the dragons assigned to sides. During one of these battles, Laurens stooped down on Hopkins, swiftly and with no warning. The smaller dragon shrilled and startled sharply; his own awkward dive causing both Anthony and Peter to nearly lose their seats. A faux bomb (flour in cheesecloth) impacting squarely between his shoulders simply added further insult. 

“That was cheating,” Hopkins complained, once they had landed. 

“No, my dear, that was sound strategy. All’s fair in love and war. In the heat of battle, we must be aware of everything happening all around us.” 

Anthony had much the same discussion with Peter that evening, as he been focused on reading Lafayette’s signals and had not noticed Laurens’ climb to a higher altitude. Anthony followed Sousa’s example of praising in public, but disciplining in private. This was yet another reason he had found to dislike Garrett, as that man seemed in the habit of loudly berating his crew over the slightest of errors committed during their training sessions. 

In addition to the formation training, Anthony had also been asked to assist Senior Captain Carter with reviewing the various dispatches from the outlying coverts. “Not only are your eyes literally fresher than mine, Anthony, but perhaps you will notice something that those of us already familiar with the larger situation have not,” she said crisply, after he had questioned whether he should be participating in discussions of sensitive Corps communications. 

In addition to the border conflicts they’d already discussed, Coulson had received reports from the Vincennes and Knoxville covert of mysterious deaths among the dragons associated with the local Natives. This had caused inter-tribe tensions, each blaming the other for their misfortunes, and the settlers in the area were caught in between. The frontier coverts were the most lightly-staffed, and had concerns about being able to adequately police the situation should violence break out. 

After reviewing the reports, Carter brought the matter to Sousa and Fury and the three of them discussed the implications, with Anthony acting as secretary. Combined with the other intelligence, it seemed there just might be some unknown force testing the alliance between the Native tribes and the United States government. Fury suspected the British, or perhaps Spain; but Carter was less sanguine about it being a foreign power. Anthony put several hours into writing up a final copy of their conclusions for the Admiral to take back to Headquarters, after which Carter invited him back to her sitting room for some sherry.

“You are a man of many talents, Anthony. Sousa is pleased with your progress during the training sessions, as well as that of Hopkins. He also told me about your updates to the warming platforms, and how they use steam heat instead of wood or coal fires. I’d like to take the design back with me to Headquarters, if I may. Hamilton will be clamoring for something like it for his home pavilion, I am quite sure.” 

“I would be honored to provide the blueprints to the Corps, Miss Carter.”

“Oh please, no need to be formal when we are not on duty.” She took off her spectacles and leaned toward him, taking his hands while closely examining his face. “There is much of your father in you, my dear. Both brilliant, driven men who have taken too much of the world onto their own shoulders. I am glad you found a steadfast companion in Hopkins.”

“As am I, Aunt Peggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't originally intended for Captain Peggy Carter to still be alive, but since one of my readers asked to have her included, here she is, still proving her value.


	12. Chapter 12

Senior Captain Carter had opted to stay for the hatchings, presumably to further evaluate the longwing candidates, but Anthony suspected personal motives as well. Commodore Sousa seemed ten years younger since her arrival, and they were often found in each others’ company. Anthony took Carter out to show off his workshop one afternoon, and as a result of that flight, Hopkins became quite her admirer. 

“Your Aunt Peggy is an expert flier, Anthony. And she has such interesting stories! I am glad you invited her out to the workshop. It is a shame she can no longer be captain of Lafayette, although Miss Carter is very competent as well.” 

She was also quite complimentary of Hopkins and his interest in intellectual pursuits. “He has a fine mind, Anthony, and a will to use it. The two of you are well suited to one another, and I foresee great things in your future.”

A formal officers’ dinner was held later that week. Anthony was disappointed that Virginia was not in attendance; when he asked Rhodes about her absence, he said she was not feeling well and had asked to be excused. Anthony had hoped to spend time with her that evening, as they’d barely even seen each other over the past several days, other than on dragonback during the formation drills. And even he wasn’t bold enough to use the signal flags for personal matters.

He successfully avoided speaking to either Garrett or Ward as everyone entered the dining hall, and was relieved to see he had been seated between Lieutenants Maria Hill and Harold Hogan, both of Fury’s delegation. Miss Hill had greeted Rhodes before they were seated, and Anthony inquired as to how they knew one another. 

“He and I were ensigns together on Madison, before I transferred to Hamilton and he to Hancock,” she replied. “Does he still complain about the cold? We spent one winter at Fort Detroit and he swore it was going to kill him. I kept telling him to put more meat on his bones and he wouldn’t feel the chill so.” As the meal progressed, she shared stories of the various shenanigans they had gotten up to as junior officers. Anthony had occasionally caught flashes of Rhodes’ mischievous side (even if it was now more tempered by age and responsibility) during their acquaintance and told a few stories of his own. 

Mister Hogan was part of Thompson’s crew on Chase, who had been transferred from Adirondack to Kitty Hawk. He had spent most of the meal getting caught up with Miss Carter and Mister Lang, but as the dinner wrapped up, Anthony asked Hogan what he thought of the change of scenery. 

“I grew up on the coast of New Jersey, so I’m glad to be back on the ocean. Chase has rather taken to fishing for her supper, which is fine, as long as she doesn’t take it into her head to go diving with the entire crew aboard!” Hogan responded, with a chuckle. 

He then proceeded to provide both Anthony and Miss Carter with some background on the other east coast candidates. Both Miss Hill and Mister Sitwell were from the Admiral’s crew and were very well qualified for captaincy, in his opinion. Hogan was less assured about Miss Underwood and Mister Malick, both midwingmen. 

“No one will come right out and say it, but I believe Malick’s placement to be politically driven, as both his father and brother serve in the legislature. I don’t know anything about Miss Underwood; she came from the Choate Island covert and has kept very much to herself. Your aunt hasn’t even been able to get much out of her, Miss Carter, and she’s one of the best diplomats I’ve ever met.” 

Anthony left the post-dinner gathering early, and stopped by the infirmary. He then went to Virginia’s room and knocked on her door, steaming mug in hand. She opened the door only a sliver at first, until she saw it was him. 

“I brought you some willow bark tea, Virginia. Rhodes had said you were indisposed.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” She took the mug distractedly, and crossed the room to set it on her nightstand. Virginia seemed about to say something, but then simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned to look out the window. “I have missed you,” she finally murmured. Anthony came up behind her, caressing her arms soothingly and dropping a kiss on the back of her neck. 

“I have missed you as well, my love. I’ve been so busy, between the formation drills and acting as secretary for Senior Captain Carter, I’ve barely had time to think. I’ve dozed off on the flight back to the workshop more than once,” he added, trying to make her smile. 

“Hopkins must be a smooth flier, to rock you to sleep so,” she replied, turning around with a soft laugh. “Hancock said that he has thrown himself into training wholeheartedly, being eager to prove himself worthy. Not that your trip to Niagara and back didn’t do so already.” She paused again, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Did I hear correctly, that Captain Garrett would be staying until all three eggs hatched?” 

“That is my understanding, yes,” he responded. “The remaining western-based candidates will then return to Niagara with him and Burr. It will make for a busy time around here until then.” 

“What do you think of Garrett?” 

“I try not to,” Anthony replied. “He treats his crew poorly, as well as anyone else of lower rank. He had unkind things to say about Hopkins and spoke disparagingly of my father. I took offence and was about to demand satisfaction when Midwingman Romanova brought me to my senses.”

“Garrett can be charming when it suits him,” Virginia stated, once again looking out the window. “Especially towards a newly-made ensign looking for a mentor. I was young and foolish -- flattered by his attention, I mistook his ambition for love. You see, Garrett had just been assigned to Burr and was already planning for the dragon’s succession. When I bore a girl child, he was no longer interested in either of us. My parents were immensely understanding, and have cared for Elizabeth ever since.” 

Anthony found himself clenching his fists. While he could accept that Virginia had other lovers in her life, to learn that she had been so taken advantage of was not to be supported. But she must have seen his thoughts plain on his face when she returned to his arms, as she smiled and shook her head. 

“Anthony, do not challenge him on my account. I have made my peace and cannot regret the course of action that brought Elizabeth into this world. That man is worth neither your time nor your regard. And please, say nothing to Hopkins.” 

\---------------------------

The days passed quickly and the longwing egg was finally ready to hatch. At the first sign of movement, it had been brought from the incubation chamber into the large pavilion, which had two sides open to the air to allow the dragons to observe. 

The four candidates -- Hill, Morse, Romanova and Underwood -- were seated equidistant from the egg, which had been removed from its basket, and was resting on a cushion in the corner, shielded from the wind. They had spent time talking to the egg, so the dragonet would recognize their voices. 

The women each had a bowl of meat to offer the hatchling and watched intently as the egg, roughly two feet in height, started to rock slightly. If they listened closely, he could hear the sound of scratching. The longwing was much more efficient than Hopkins had been, as the time from the first crack of the egg to the hatchling’s full emergence was a matter of only a few minutes. 

“Welcome, little one,” Hill was the first to speak to the dragonet, while Morse was more practical, reaching for one of the cloths to start rubbing it dry. 

“Oh, thank you. That feels lovely,” the hatchling replied in a high, fluting voice. “I am quite hungry. May I have something to eat?” Underwood awkwardly thrust her bowl forward, which startled the dragonet and it toppled into Romanova’s lap, revealing her gender. As a female longwing, she now was an even more precious asset to the Corps. 

“Do not be afraid, _devochka_. We are all friends here,” Romanova said softly, stroking the dragonet’s head, and feeding her a chunk of liver. The hatchling hummed happily in response, and the other candidates slowly withdrew, Underwood with a look of pure jealousy. 

Anthony missed the other two hatchings as the first happened in the middle of the night, and the second while he and Hopkins were practicing maneuvers. Peterson had been chosen by the anglewing mix, who he named Banneker; and Sitwell was now companion to Tallmadge, the Reaper cross. Romanova had named her dragon Kosciuszko, presumably to honor her father’s western Russian heritage. Anthony suspected it was also partly just to be difficult, as Romanova had a streak of rebellion in her. Hopkins quickly dubbed the hatchling Kozzie and the nickname stuck. 

Peterson and Banneker returned to Niagara with the rest of the delegation, despite Burr’s muttering about having to carry a dragon who was perfectly capable of flying on his own. Anthony felt a huge weight come off his shoulders as they flew out of sight. He had managed to successfully avoid speaking with Garrett other than the required pleasantries. It had been obvious to the entire covert that the two men did not get along, but Anthony felt most of his fellow aviators understood his feelings of animosity, and several of them came to share his dislike. 

Captain Price and Schuyler flew up from Great Falls to collect the east coast candidates and Senior Captain Carter. Sitwell and his dragon Tallmadge would be joining them, with their eventual destination being Choate Island. Lafayette was sad to see his former captain depart, but he had a new responsibility: providing instruction to his offspring on on how to manage her deadly abilities. Anthony remembered well from the battles of his youth how destructive a single spray of acid from a full-grown longwing could be. 

Fortunately, immature longwings’ acid was much weaker. Kozzie still had to be very careful, as just a few drops could kill trees and plants as well as burn skin (both human and dragon). As stone and brick were more resistant, the grounds crew had built a pavilion in the middle of a cleared area for her, but she had visitors -- dragon and human -- regularly. While Kozzie was much too young for formation training, she often joined the others during their morning exercise flights and watched intently as they ran through their drills. 

As for her captain, while Miss Romanova had a somewhat reserved way about her, she and Virginia had struck up a friendship. Hopkins had also taken to Kozzie, spending his free time equally with her and Hancock, who treated them both with motherly affection. The little longwing was lively and curious, particularly about the world around her. Hopkins took it upon himself to teach her how to read, and they often filled the hard-packed dirt around her pavilion with their scribblings. 

Anthony was reluctant to give up his workshop completely, as he still had projects he was tinkering with. Sousa was more than happy to accommodate him. “It would be a different situation were we at war, of course. But I see no reason why you cannot maintain your residence.” Anthony made arrangements with the herdsmen that supplied the covert; and with Laurens’ help, cleared an area for a paddock. The former sheep shed was made over to become Hopkins’ new pavilion, as there was no longer room for him in the workshop. 

And while Peter was officially now Banner’s apprentice, he still worked with Anthony on occasion, as they had both become fascinated with the latest innovations in steam engine technology. Anthony had corresponded with both Evans and Corliss and conferred with them on their designs, all the while building his own engine for eventual use at the covert. As spring led into summer, it seemed all was well.


	13. Chapter 13

“Anthony! Please hurry! I need you!” Hopkins’ voice rang out from above the workshop. They hadn’t expected the dragon back from his visit to the covert for at least another few hours, and Anthony bolted from the workshop in concern, Peter right behind him. 

Looking up, they saw Hopkins flying low over the treetops with a strange dragon literally right on top of him; its forequarters stretched across his back. Anthony thought at first it was attacking Hopkins, but there was no sign of struggle. In fact, the other dragon seemed weak and in pain, wings moving slowly and stiffly. 

“Peter, no! He is hurt and I brought him here for help!” Hopkins cried out, as the boy leveled his rifle at them. He let the barrel of the gun fall as the two dragons landed heavily in the dooryard. The newcomer collapsed and drew into himself, pain clear in every line of his body. 

The dragon was an unfamiliar breed, possibly native, black shading to grey on its wings, with deep red markings. Anthony couldn’t tell at first glance which splotches were blood and which were not. There were deep gouges on his flanks, and the edges of his wings were ragged and torn. The dragon’s posture was both combative and fearful; on the razor’s edge between fight and flight. 

“He was being attacked by a pack of wolves,” Hopkins panted. “I flew in and helped fight them off. He had already killed two of them.” He nosed at his new companion, distress clear on his face. Hopkins was not unscathed, with bite marks on his own legs, but they were not as serious as those on the other dragon. 

Anthony approached them slowly, hands held open at his sides. “Ask him his name and tell him we mean him no harm,” he said quietly. Hopkins had made a habit of engaging the native dragons that hung about the covert, and could communicate with them fairly well. 

But before he could translate Anthony’s words, the other dragon lifted his head and said in a hoarse voice, “I am Adagatiya Gola, but my captain called me Buchanan.” 

Anthony was doubly surprised; not only could the dragon understand and speak English, but he had been harnessed. “Your captain -- where is he?” Surely Hopkins would have said something if a man had been at the scene of the attack as well. 

“I have no captain -- he sent me away,” the dragon replied flatly. But then his head jerked forward as he growled fiercely at something behind Anthony. Peter had returned with a pail of water and a handful of rags, startling the injured dragon. 

“It’s all right,” he assured the agitated creature. “That is Peter, and I am Anthony. Your saviour is named Hopkins. How would you prefer to be addressed, as Buchanan or Adagatiya Gola?” Anthony’s tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables. 

“It does not matter,” the dragon replied dispiritedly, refusing to meet their eyes. 

“Very well, then we will call you Buchanan for now. May Peter and I tend to your injuries?” 

“You can trust them,” added Hopkins. “They are very kind and will be gentle.” With a tired, resigned nod, Buchanan rested his head once again on the ground. Anthony took the pail and rags from Peter, telling him to fetch the medical supplies.

Anthony sponged carefully at the gashes; Buchanan flinched, but made no move to attack. The wounds themselves were not serious, but it was obvious he had not had a good meal in quite some time as his skin hung loosely from his frame. It was difficult to tell from his hunched stance, tail tucked under and head bowed, but Anthony estimated that Buchanan was perhaps a yard or so longer than Hopkins, and if well-fed, the dragon would be a quarter again Hopkins’ own weight. Nonetheless, it was very possible that the pack of wolves would have overcome him, due to his weakened state.

As he worked, Anthony noticed evidence of old scars; places where harness had chafed, as if worn for days on end and not properly padded. Such was often the result of time spent on the battlefield, but the country had been at peace for too long for this young dragon -- Anthony thought him no older than three or four years -- to have been so used. Buchanan’s left foreleg appeared to have been mangled in some sort of fight; the bone poorly set with clumsy stitching across the scars. Even Peter, who had only been apprenticing with Doctor Banner for a few months, could have done better. Most disturbing were the thin parallel scars that surely were the result of whippings, and scars that wrapped around his left hindleg, as if he had been shackled. 

Hopkins, after licking his own wounds, had been pacing anxiously around the clearing, watching every move Anthony made, perhaps as much out of jealousy as concern for his new friend. After checking over Buchanan’s flanks and legs, Anthony coaxed the dragon to rear up and place his forelegs on the side of the workshop, so he could examine his underside for injuries. He thought that more sanitary than asking the dragon to lie on his side in the dust. 

Hopkins pressed in next to him, making a low rumble in his throat. He recognized the vulnerable position Anthony had put himself in, and was ready to defend him at any hint of attack or lashing out on Buchanan’s part. “Do not even attempt to harm my captain or I will make you sorry,” he hissed at the other dragon, who bowed his head submissively in return. 

Once Peter returned with the suture kit, a pot of numbing ointment and bottle of alcohol, he took over tending Buchanan from Anthony. “I’m afraid this will sting a bit,” the young man said, preparing to daub the antiseptic on the worst of the wounds. Hopkins remained close, his sharp eyes roaming over the other dragon, almost daring him to make a move. 

But as Buchanan continued to show no signs of aggression, only exhaustion and misery, Hopkins’ attitude softened. He turned to Anthony, who was watching over Peter’s progress and asked, “Are there any sheep left in the paddock?” When he replied that yes, there were two left, he continued. “I would like to give one to my new friend. May I?” 

“Of course, my dear. Let me go fetch it.” 

The ewe was less than cooperative, and it took some time for Anthony to get a rope on it and half-led, half-dragged the beast over to the dooryard. Upon his return, it appeared that Peter had finished his work, as he was washing up and packing away the remaining supplies. Hopkins was speaking sternly to their guest. “But of course you are hungry! I can hear your stomach rumble from here.” 

“No. I do not want to be muddled, so that I cannot think for myself. It always happened after my captain fed me. I never want to feel like that again,” Buchanan responded stubbornly. Anthony had heard of dragons being given drugged meat on occasion, such as during long sea voyages to keep them calm, but couldn’t imagine a reason for doing so on a regular basis. Not only would it erode the trust between a dragon and his companion, but potentially create an addict as well. 

“Buchanan,” Anthony broke in, “would you trust us if Hopkins were to eat some of the meat first?” The dragon gave him a wary look, but then assented. “Very well -- Hopkins, would you be so kind?” 

After Hopkins had dispatched the sheep, and taken several bites to no ill effect, he nosed the sheep over to Buchanan, who started tearing at the carcass ravenously. “No, no, you must slow down or you will make yourself sick!” Hopkins interrupted, pulling the sheep back from the other dragon, who instinctively snarled, but did nothing more. 

Suddenly, they heard the sound of wingbeats from the north. Another dragon, larger than either Hopkins or Buchanan was heading in their direction. Their guest took advantage of the moment of distraction by snatching the carcass up and flying away in the opposite direction. Hopkins made as if to follow, but Anthony held him back. “No, let him be.” 

Laurens came into view over the workshop, and Captain Wilson called down to them. “Did that feral just steal a sheep from you?” 

Anthony shouted back that it had been a gift and to land so he could explain. “What brings you out here to my humble abode, Captain?” he asked, once Wilson had dismounted. 

“We were concerned about Hopkins’ absence, as he was to join us for some maneuvers this morning.” Anthony, with occasional interjections from his companions, explained the events that had occupied their time instead. 

“That dragon’s name was Buchanan? And he was black, grey wings spotted with red? Did he say who his captain was?” Wilson questioned.

“No, only that he had been sent away. And might I say, it was probably to his benefit. I saw harness scars on Buchanan’s hide along with poorly cared for injuries, and whip and shackle marks. In addition, he seems to have been fed drugged meat on a regular basis to keep him docile.” 

“So, this is where he ended up,” Wilson said cryptically. “I’m afraid that dragon has a rather deplorable history, none of which is his fault. Let’s go inside, as it’s a rather long and sad tale.” Over coffee and scones, Wilson told them what he knew of Alexander Pierce, an unsavoury congressman from Tennessee. It was mostly hearsay, but having met men of his ilk, Anthony could easily believe what he was hearing. 

“Pierce was the kind of man who thought a dragon would enhance his reputation, having such a powerful creature under his control. But he had only the slightest notion of how to properly manage a dragon. Rumor was that he ... acquired... Buchanan as a hatchling from a Cherokee tribe that had been forcibly removed from his district. The Knoxville covert tried to get involved, but Pierce was too well-connected. On the rare occasions he flew Buchanan -- usually to show him off in front of fellow politicians -- Pierce kept a muzzle on him and used a goad and spurs.” 

“Rumor has it that Pierce’s right hand man, name of Rumlow, took the dragon out to hunt down escaped slaves and made a pretty penny doing so. But when a group of captured slaves finally fought back, Buchanan joined in on their side and mauled Rumlow. The man survived, but Buchanan was sentenced to death. Admiral Fury stepped in and had his sentence commuted, but the dragon was deemed too dangerous to continue living with Pierce, and was sent away.” 

“No wonder he is so distrustful and withdrawn,” Anthony stated, trying to absorb the tale. “All he knows of men is pain and control.” 

“If we could reacclimate Buchanan to human company, perhaps even convince him to take a new captain, he would be a great asset to the formation.” Wilson mused. Do you think Hopkins would be willing to help?” 

“Let’s find out.” Anthony went back outside, and told an abbreviated, somewhat expurgated version of what Wilson had told him, asking if he thought Buchanan could be brought around. 

“Perhaps,” Hopkins replied thoughtfully. “He needs to be shown that his captain and Rumlow were wrong and evil to have abused him so, and that other men -- true aviators -- are not like that at all. You have never treated me poorly, Anthony, and I know you would not behave so towards Laurens, Captain Wilson. We should go look for Buchanan.” 

“No, my dear, not right now. Let us wait, give him the option to come to us, now that he knows he may find a friend here,” Anthony told Hopkins. “I would be happy to lose some livestock to him if it would help restore his confidence in mankind.” 

Buchanan did return a few days later, looking for relief from one of his wounds that had become inflamed. Peter lanced the swelling, wiped it clean, and rebandaged it. Hopkins also shared another meal with him, this time a little more equitably. 

“Have you somewhere warm and safe to sleep?” Hopkins asked his newfound friend. “You could stay here tonight. My pavilion is quite comfortable -- there is plenty of room for us both.” Buchanan mumbled a reply, neither accepting nor outright rejecting, but as night fell, Hopkins coaxed him into staying. 

Anthony startled awake to the sound of a strangled roar. Dashing out to the pavilion, rifle in hand, he was met by Hopkins. “All is well, Anthony. Buchanan simply had a bad dream.” Over Hopkins’ shoulder, Anthony saw the dragon huddled miserably in a corner. He’d never stopped to think that dragons would dream, much less have nightmares. 

Buchanan was gone again by morning. Two days later, they awoke to find a deer carcass on their doorstep, presumably his way of repaying their hospitality. The next week, he started joining Hopkins in his daily exercise flights over the lake, but would shear off as they approached the workshop. 

Hopkins reported that Buchanan’s wounds were healing nicely; and, as he was now occasionally helping himself to a pig or sheep from the paddock at the workshop, he did not look nearly so hungry. Anthony started accompanying Hopkins on these flights, and Buchanan did not seem to mind. They even started exchanging pleasantries, Anthony being careful not to discuss potentially sensitive topics. 

After another week had passed, Hopkins suggested to Anthony that they ask Buchanan if he would join them at the covert sometime soon to meet the other dragons. He believed that speaking with Hancock, Knowlton and the rest of the formation would perhaps make Buchanan more amenable to human company. 

“If we can only show him that there are good men and women that care for their dragons, and would never try to harm or deceive them, perhaps he would consider taking a captain for himself again. He must be very lonely without a companion. I certainly would be, ” Hopkins concluded, as he nuzzled Anthony, nearly knocking him over. 

“That is an excellent idea, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on vacation the last week and a half - hope this delayed chapter was worth the wait!  
> And things will get better for dragon!Bucky soon, I promise.


	14. Chapter 14

They made their plans for the following Sunday morning, as most of the aviators would either be attending church or otherwise at liberty, and therefore Buchanan was less likely to be spooked. Hopkins asked Knowlton to meet them in the training grounds by herself; as she was smaller than Buchanan, she would not seem a threat. If all went well, Hancock would join them. 

Anthony and Hopkins had been aloft just a few minutes before Buchanan joined them; he obviously was staying somewhere nearby. They exchanged greetings, and Hopkins led the conversation. They landed at the training grounds and Knowlton was already there, stretched out in the sun like a cat. 

Anthony dismounted and left the dragons to their own devices, finding a shady spot near the edge of the clearing. He watched the three dragons interact: Hopkins doing his best to ease Buchanan’s wariness, while Knowlton seemed to be actually flirting with him. She’d been acting much the same way with Hopkins within the past week or so; as she was entering her first season, Anthony assumed she was considering them as potential mates. However, as Hopkins had not yet reached that milestone, he responded only with mild puzzlement to her overtures. Buchanan seemed more interested, but still skittish overall. 

Hancock joined them after several minutes, which seemed to restrain Knowlton’s coquettishness. Buchanan was once again on his guard initially, but he slowly responded to the the older dragon’s calm demeanor. Anthony had wisely brought reading material with him and was engrossed by Babbage’s latest treatise when he heard someone coming up the path behind him. 

“So, this is where you’ve gone off to, Hancock!” Rhodes’ voice carried across the training grounds. He stopped when he saw the unfamiliar fourth dragon. Anthony and Wilson had not kept Buchanan a secret from their fellow officers; in fact, his history had been the topic of more than one mealtime discussion. However, it still must have been a surprise to see him on the grounds of the covert. 

Buchanan had startled at Rhodes’ voice, once again going on alert. But then the dragon slowly came towards them, moving cautiously, but without fear. He stopped just a few yards from Rhodes, and examined the aviator closely. Rhodes returned the appraising look with one of his own, taking in the scars and other signs of mistreatment that Wilson and Anthony had mentioned. 

“You look like my people,” Buchanan stated, with a note of wonder in his low voice. Anthony wasn’t sure what he could mean; as he’d assumed Pierce and Rumlow were white men. 

Rhodes responded calmly, even as Buchanan continued to stare. “My mother was Aniyunwiya, of the Atali band.” 

“They spoke to me in the shell. I hatched and I was cherished. Then he stole me from them. He said they were dirty, lazy Cherokee that did not deserve a dragon.” 

“Pierce did both you and your people a great wrong. Gaest-ost yuh-wa da-nv-ta-- I am sorry.” Rhodes lifted his hand. “May I?” And when Buchanan nodded, he placed it lightly on the dragon’s cheek. They stood quietly together as Anthony stole away.

Hancock had been watching their interaction intently, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice if Buchanan had showed any sort of ill intent. Hopkins and Knowlton had also been on alert, but they all realized that something important was happening and they should not interfere. 

“Anthony,” Hopkins murmured as he came near to the dragons, “do you think Buchanan might take Lieutenant Rhodes as his captain? They seem to be drawn to one another.” 

“Rhodes is part of my crew.” Hancock rumbled resentfully, “I do not think I should have to give him up.” 

“Come now, Hancock,” Anthony chided her, “how can you begrudge a fellow dragon who has been treated so poorly a chance at happiness? Buchanan deserves a good man as his captain. You have helped prepare your lieutenant for just such a task.” Hancock snorted in reply, as Anthony climbed aboard Hopkins, urging him and the other dragons skyward to give Rhodes and Buchanan some privacy. 

Rhodes returned to the main building late in the afternoon, and asked Sousa if they could discuss a private matter in his study. The two men were sequestered for quite some time. Anthony had told Virginia about the morning’s events, and they were both waiting for Rhodes when he emerged. Their friend’s general demeanor was on the phlegmatic side; while he could make merry with the best of them, he was not easily perturbed, and rarely showed strong emotion. But he appeared quite unsettled as he left the study, and nearly ran into them, as he was so preoccupied by his own thoughts. 

With a wry smile, he addressed Anthony. “I now understand a little better what you went through last October when Hopkins hatched, my friend. It’s as if the world turned upside down.” He paused, shaking his head. “I tried to resign my commission, but Sousa refused.” 

“What do you mean-- ‘resign your commission’?” Virginia asked, in shock. 

“Adagatiya Gola needs me. And I can’t be a lieutenant on Hancock and a companion to him at the same time.”

“Rhodes, you may want to step back a moment. Don’t make any rash decisions,” Anthony advised, but Rhodes interrupted him. 

“That’s what Sousa said. ‘No need to throw your career away on damaged goods.’ Stark, you know more than just Adagatiya Gola’s story; you’ve spent time with him. He deserves more than this, to live out his life in isolation. It’s different for the ferals; they have their own little tribes, as do the retired dragons. He told me he doesn’t fit into either world and is shunned as a result. I know a little bit about that,” he concluded, with a note of bitterness. 

“I’m sure you do,” Anthony replied. “And I believe you would be the best thing that could happen to Buchanan. We just want to make sure you’ve given this serious of a decision adequate thought.” 

“Besides, Buchanan isn’t the only reason Sousa doesn’t want you to leave the Corps,” Virginia said. “He’s thinking of his own dragon. When he steps down, Hancock will need someone she cares about and trusts to take over as captain. You know Sousa has been considering you for that role.” Anthony thought back to what Hopkins had said regarding the older dragon’s concerns about her captain, and her comments from that morning made even more sense. 

Rhodes shook his head ruefully. “Yes, and I am flattered. But I know what choice I must make. Hancock has other options; Adagatiya Gola does not.” 

“Perhaps Buchanan could be harnessed for the Corps,” Anthony mused. “There’s certainly precedence -- Hopkins is only one example. Your career would be secure as would his future. He could stand as a scout, or lookout. Once he’s back to full health, he might even be considered for a combat lightweight position.”

“I don’t think it out of the question, though I would approach matters slowly. Some consideration would need to be given to assignments. It would be beyond cruel to set him against his own people,” Rhodes responded slowly, clearly giving the matter thought. 

“I agree,” added Virginia. “But as we are currently at peace with the tribes on our borders, that should not be a concern.” Anthony knew just how fragile that peace was, but could say nothing, being bound to secrecy. Instead he attempted to bring the conversation to a close. 

“It has been a busy day. I suggest we all have a good meal, get some rest and take another look at things in the morning.” 

It took some time to hammer out a plan of action satisfactory to all parties. Buchanan was introduced to the other dragons, and they presented the idea of joining them at the covert. He expressed concern at what would be asked of him, saying he did not want to hunt men again. Hopkins was distressed by the idea as well, asking Anthony about it later. 

“We have never been asked to do so, but I am sure if we were, it would be because the men had done something wrong and needed to be brought to justice,” Anthony carefully replied. He believed strongly that all men were created equal and found slavery personally repugnant. However, the Aerial Corps were bound by the Fugitive Slave Acts of 1793 and therefore could technically be ordered to pursue, capture and remand slaves back to their owners. But Anthony suspected that such orders would be conveniently “misplaced” by clerks and/or the couriers themselves, as the majority of the aviators Anthony knew shared his abolitionist views. 

Knowlton was doing her part to make Buchanan feel welcome as well, continuing to wield her feminine wiles. Hopkins, to Anthony’s amusement, became rather jealous as a result. 

“He was my friend first, Anthony. I do not see why he should like to spend so much time with her,” he grumbled, making marks in the wooden floor of the pavilion with his talons.

“Green eyes do not become you, my dear. Knowlton is old enough to want to make her first egg, and she apparently thinks Buchanan a fine candidate.” 

“Oh-- I had not thought of that.” Hopkins brightened. “Hancock has told me all about making eggs. She said it can be quite pleasant. Is it so for humans as well?” 

“With the right partner? Most certainly,” a familiar voice drawled from just outside the pavilion. Virginia walked toward them, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. 

“Anthony-- you did not tell me that you and your Virginia were trying to make babies! How wonderful!” Anthony felt his face grow hot, while Virginia shook her head in amusement. 

“No, my dear Hopkins, not anytime soon. It is not quite as simple for people as it is for dragons,” she said. “And I am sure Buchanan still cares deeply for you, even if Knowlton is flirting outrageously with him at the moment.” 

“I suppose. And I truly am happy that Buchanan has found a companion in Lieutenant Rhodes. Do you know when the Commodore will be sending in the paperwork so he may be officially declared captain?” 

“It’s a little more complicated than our situation was, my dear. The Corps needs proof that Buchanan is no longer a danger to anyone. He did attack that Rumlow fellow.” 

“But it was perfectly fine for him and Pierce both to beat and drug Buchanan at their whim?” Hopkins replied curtly. “Why should he not have tried to defend himself, or the innocent people he was sent to hunt down?” 

“No, it was terribly wrong of both Pierce and Rumlow to behave as they did. But many ignorant people still fear and despise dragons and think of your kind as dangerous beasts. Cases such as your friend’s unfortunately reinforce that prejudice, when the full story is not revealed.” 

Hopkins hissed in annoyance. “Then we must make sure Buchanan’s side is told as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicating this chapter (and the whole darn work) to Flor - who has been an AMAZING cheerleader for this fic!   
> I wish I could send dragon!Steve & dragon!Bucky swooping in to help you through the rough times & wreak havoc on your behalf.


	15. Chapter 15

It was to be a tribunal in all but name, thought Anthony as he assisted the harnessmen. After extensive communication with Headquarters which had taken the better part of a month, a Corps Council would be held at Great Falls to hear the petition to add Buchanan to the rolls and assign Rhodes as his captain. They would be expected to appear in person, and could select an advocate to assist with their case. The five-seat Council would consist of Admirals Fury and Philips as well as Commodore Coulson. Normally, Sousa and Commodore Pym would take the remaining places, but as they both had personal connections to Rhodes, they were excused from serving. Two senior captains had instead been selected by lot. 

Rhodes asked Sousa to act as Buchanan’s advocate; so he and Hancock would be making the trip as well. Anthony and Hopkins had insisted on going along as character witnesses and for general moral support. The plan was to fly from Adirondack to the Long Island covert, where they would meet Fury and Hamilton and complete the journey to Great Falls. 

The ground crew had been busy since the summons was received. A harness had to be assembled for Buchanan, as Rhodes had -- in a show of immense trust -- been riding unharnessed. Which was fine for around the covert, but not for the long distances they would have to cover. Rhodes had insisted on the bare minimum, so it resembled Hopkins’ first harness: padded shoulder yoke and chestband, with back straps and underwing straps joined together behind the ribs. 

Anthony had thought it odd that there was no belly rigging to stabilize the harness. Even Hopkins’ original rig had a square of sailcloth serving that purpose. Anthony mentioned it to Rhodes, who quietly explained that Adagatiya Gola had been made to transport fugitive slaves in such a manner, and he did not wish to provide any reminder of that ugly task. 

Hopkins was also in need of a new harness, as he was in the middle of a growth spurt, eating at least one sheep or pig each day and taking afternoon naps regularly, having grown quite beyond Banner’s original estimates of him reaching the lower end of courier class. Anthony insisted he keep up with his training and exercises, so his wings and muscles were developing properly as his size increased. 

Hopkins’ new harness was designed to support the typical lightweight crew of four; however, he only had his captain and Midwingman Parker assigned to him, as Anthony had been hesitant to poach officers from the other captains at Adirondack. At Sousa’s suggestion, he had drafted a letter to be sent to the larger coverts, asking for volunteers. A reply came indicating that potential assignments were being evaluated at Long Island and Great Falls, which gave another reason for the two of them to accompany Rhodes and Sousa. 

Hancock herself would be only be carrying a skeleton crew of six on the journey, giving Sousa a chance to observe his midwingmen closely for potential promotion to lieutenant. Virginia had been provisionally promoted to first lieutenant, upon the assumption of Rhodes’ successful application for captaincy of Buchanan. 

The late June morning dawned hot and humid. All three captains met to review their flight plans, as the weather would take a toll on their dragons. Their original estimate of 75 miles a day was based on Hancock’s average long-distance speed of 12 knots. They revised their estimated distance per day to 60 miles, which would get them to the Long Island covert in three days. If the weather held, it would take four more days to get to Great Falls. Thankfully, the dragons had fed well the day before, as they knew they might be on short rations in between the coverts. 

Hancock took the lead, as she had made this trip several times, with Hopkins and Buchanan riding comfortably in her wake. They flew close enough to each other to converse if they wished, and this time, Tony remembered to pack a book within easy reach. The first day passed quickly, and they finished it closer to their original distance goal, landing just outside Pittsfield, Massachusetts. 

The next day, Hopkins took on the role of providing entertainment; recounting, to the best of his memory, some of the Shakespeare plays that Peter had read to him so many months before. He claimed to remember the histories best, but was having trouble keeping the different Henrys straight. Buchanan also misunderstood the meaning behind King Richard’s lament, stating “Surely a horse is not worth an entire kingdom, despite being very good eating.” 

They decided to end their day a little early at the courier outpost in New Milford instead of trying to reach the coast. It was well stocked for both dragons and men, and the few extra hours of rest they enjoyed may have been their saving grace the following day. 

The glass was threatening stormy weather, but the sky to the west was clear. As there was still a full day’s travel before reaching the covert on Jones Beach Island, an early start seemed prudent. As they flew out across Long Island Sound, the wind changed and a squall blew up around their party. Hancock flew to a higher altitude, but Hopkins and Buchanan found it easier going closer to the water, just high enough to avoid the swells. 

Hopkins initially spotted the dark shape bobbing up and down some distance in front of them. As they drew closer, Anthony saw it was a foundering skiff, with several figures waving desperately for help. It looked to be two older men, a boy still in his teens, and a child. Rhodes leaned forward to confer with his dragon, then motioned for Hopkins to draw nearer. 

“We’ve got to try to save them,” he called, voice barely audible above the storm’s roar. “It’s too far to take them to shore right now, but Hancock can easily carry passengers. Adagatiya Gola and I will start the rescue, while you go find her.” 

Hopkins sped through the sky and quickly located the larger dragon. He explained the situation and they started back for the ship. Buchanan came into view with a bundle in his front talons. He deposited the frightened child on Hancock’s back, then dove back to the rescue scene as the other two dragons followed. 

Anthony called out to Peter, “Jettison everything in the belly rigging. We need to be as light as possible.” He nodded and made his way below, moving almost spider-like across the harness, clipping and unclipping his carabiners with scarcely a glance. Hopkins had slowed his descent, not wanting to dislodge Peter from the harness, and Buchanan had already picked up a second figure from the sinking boat. 

It was the boy, more aware of his predicament and clinging tightly to Buchanan’s chestband. The dragon was using all four claws to carry and support him and already showed signs of strain. The analytical part of Anthony’s mind wondered why he hadn’t dealt with the heavier burdens first. But of course the men had sacrificed themselves for the children; it was human nature. Anthony watched Buchanan practically hover over Hancock's back, as her crew persuaded the boy to let go and join them on the larger dragon.

“Hopkins, pick up the bigger man, there on the port side of the ship. Lift and pull him in towards your chest. Peter and I will help him into the belly rigging.” Anthony wished fervently he’d put more effort into practicing maneuvering around Hopkins during flight, struggling with the carabiners as he clambered about. Unlike Peter, he had to watch carefully where he placed his feet and hands. He got into position barely in time, legs thrust through the harness, with his upper body free to reach down as the dragon picked the man up by his belt.

“Stop struggling! I am not going to eat you, but I may very well drop you into the ocean if you continue to kick and bellow so!” Hopkins’ sharp words startled the man into stillness. 

“Here, give us your hands. We’re going to lift you into the net, where you’ll be safe.” Anthony’s words got the man’s attention, and he did as he was told. With Hopkins’ help, they got him secured as Buchanan returned to the skiff, which was now nearly completely underwater. Anthony saw, to his shock, that Rhodes had tossed his personal harness to the remaining man, who haphazardly donned it. Was Rhodes really going to ride untethered in this weather, with a near-exhausted dragon and an unpredictable passenger? 

Buchanan actually touched down on the ship, which dipped further below the waves under his weight. The man had his wits enough about him to reach up and clip two of the carabiners to the harness as the dragon took hold of him around the waist. With a mighty flap of his wings, they were airborne again, if just barely. Buchanan was obviously tiring; Hopkins swooped in underneath, ready to bear him up if he faltered. 

Hancock had flown down to join them, calling out. “I think I can see the shore from here, just ahead of us. Buchanan, land on my back so you can rest.” He shook his head, not wasting breath on a reply. Alighting on another dragon in flight was a touchy maneuver at best, trying to synchronize speed and determine the angle of attack. It would be all too easy to collide with disastrous results, such as crushing the man hanging from his chest, or throwing his captain from his back. 

Hancock had been correct -- within just a few minutes, they were skimming over the shallow water with a rocky beach beyond. Hopkins landed gingerly, keeping his legs as straight as possible until his passenger wriggled out of the netting, assisted by Peter, who had dismounted the moment they landed. Anthony’s legs had gone numb from the awkward position, and by the time he extricated himself, Hopkins was sinking down onto the sand with a grateful sigh. Buchanan had done much the same, making sure his passenger and captain were safe before collapsing from exhaustion. 

Pounding his thighs to bring blood back into them, Anthony looked around. Virginia ran across the sand to embrace him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe, all of you.” He suspected the wetness on her cheeks wasn’t just rain. It was only then he realized just how much danger they had put themselves in. The erratic winds and waves could have turned against them at any moment, foundering either (or both) of the dragons. But not one of them had hesitated when duty called. 

The dragons had landed near a fishing village, and a few brave souls were coming out into the howling storm to investigate. Sousa motioned Rhodes and Anthony to join him, and he strode toward the villagers, radiating authority. “We have four survivors of a sunken ship that need assistance, but we must continue our journey. Can you take them in and make sure they get home safely?” 

Sousa had made the assumption that the rescued men wished to spend as little time in the company of dragons as possible and, although they had mentioned they were from the city, would be better off in the care of the local population. If they had introduced themselves at any point, Anthony hadn’t caught their names. 

A tall woman, the apparent leader of the group nodded assent, and the men and boys were transferred into their care. Sousa then asked for directions to the Long Island covert, believing the squall had blown them off their original course. They had indeed gone several miles out of their way, and would be flying directly into the wind to make their destination. The officers thanked the townspeople and returned to their party. 

Sousa made an announcement: “We’ll rest here for another hour or two -- the squall is already showing signs of blowing over.” Virginia walked with Anthony back to Hopkins, who spread his wings just enough for them to duck underneath. They found Peter already seated comfortably, wringing water out of his jacket. As they were all soaked to the bone, the warmth radiating off the dragon was quite welcome. 

Hopkins nudged his muzzle against his companion, needing reassurance that all was well. “You were very brave, my dear,” Anthony told him, stroking his cheek. “You and Buchanan saved those men’s lives. I am proud of you.” Hopkins rumbled with pleasure at the praise. 

“You were quite brave also, Anthony. It must be difficult to move around on the harness while I am flying, especially in the rain and wind. I was worried for you and Peter both.” 

And then Anthony must have dozed off for a few minutes, as Peter was nudging his shoulder and calling his name. “Captain Stark. It’s time to go.” He climbed back aboard, muscles aching, and took his seat. Hancock’s mothering instincts were in full force, and she was alternately bullying and coaxing Buchanan into climbing onto her back. He was truly too large to be transported in this manner, and he was even more stubborn than the older dragon. He agreed finally to fly above her, so if he needed to rest part of his weight on her during the remainder of their trip, he could do so. 

They arrived at the Long Island covert long after sunset, using the signal fires to guide their final approach. The ground crew on duty were quick to help unharness the dragons. Anthony was thankful that Hancock had been carrying most of their baggage, as he wanted desperately to put on something dry and have a hot meal before collapsing into bed. 

The larger coverts usually provided cooked meals for their dragons, allowing them to stretch out the meat with grains and other filler. Hopkins had first experienced this at Niagara, and a giant cauldron of some sort of fish chowder was still bubbling away despite the lateness of the hour. 

When Hopkins asked why they didn’t do this at their covert, Anthony replied “We just don’t have the facilities at Adirondack to make this large quantity of soup, or roast whole beasts on a regular basis.” At least not yet. As Anthony drifted off to sleep, he envisioned building a steam engine to power a rotating spit large enough for multiple carcasses to be roasted all at once.


	16. Chapter 16

Despite their exertions of the day before, there was no time to lose in their journey to Great Falls. The Long Island covert had been generous in replenishing their supplies, and all three dragons had eaten well before falling asleep in the guest pavilion. Thankfully, the heat wave had broken with the summer storm, and the next few days’ weather boded well for travelling. 

They would also have additional company. Not only would Admiral Fury and Hamilton be making the trip with them, but Anthony’s request for additional crew had been approved and the first assignment made. “Mister Hogan, a pleasure to see you again,” Anthony greeted his new lieutenant. “I hope you don’t mind uprooting yourself once more, after having just gotten settled at Kitty Hawk.” 

“Not at all, Captain Stark,” the man replied. “I’ve always been a bit of a wanderer. After this excursion to Great Falls, I understand we’ll be heading out to the frontier.” Anthony and Sousa had been given the assignment to tour the western coverts and confirm reports of unrest. If the hearing went well, Rhodes and Buchanan would be joining them. 

Anthony was concerned that Peter would take Hogan’s new posting poorly. While his former apprentice had a much longer history with Hopkins, Peter had no seniority in the Corps to speak of; indeed, his promotion to midwingman was more a courtesy than officially earned. However, Peter accepted the situation with good grace, and showed as much enthusiasm towards working with Hogan as Anthony himself did. 

The ground crew were preparing Hopkins for the journey when Admiral Fury joined them. “Well, well, Captain Stark. What have you been feeding your dragon -- entire oxen? I swear he’s nearly half again as large as he was at the hatching this spring.” Fury had a good eye, as Hopkins and Buchanan were now nearly of a size -- both being around eight tons, although the older dragon was still both slightly taller and longer. “I understand you had a bit of an adventure yesterday when you crossed the Sound,” the Admiral continued. 

“Yes, sir. We were glad to be able to provide assistance.” The story of the rescue had spread like wildfire through the covert, and both Rhodes and Buchanan had praise heaped on them for their heroism, to the point where they were embarrassed by the attention. Hopkins, along with Anthony and Peter were also recognized for the part they played. “Is there any news of the men we rescued?” 

“A horseback courier was sent out this morning. I requested that word be sent along to us once he returns,” Fury responded. “I must go check on Hamilton -- expect to leave within the hour.” 

“Yes, sir,” Anthony responded. He spent the intervening time introducing Hogan to Hopkins, and checking over their supplies. The two larger dragons would be carrying the bulk of the traveling party’s baggage, but each dragon was expected to carry daily rations for its crew, as well as foul weather gear. Hopkins, in turn, was doing his best to keep Buchanan calm, despite the other dragon showing signs of distress. 

“Something is bothering Adagatiya Gola, Anthony. He won’t tell me, but he didn’t sleep well at all last night.” Hopkins had followed Rhodes’ lead in using his friend’s original name, and Anthony made an effort to address him as such as well, despite still stumbling over the syllables. But in conversation with other aviators (and the privacy of his own thoughts) it was simpler to refer to him as Buchanan.

“I’ll ask Rhodes if he knows what has his dragon all riled up,” Anthony reassured his companion. However, the question slipped his mind, and they were soon taking their leave of the covert. 

Once in the air, the dragons assumed a standard traveling formation, taking their directions via signal flag from Hamilton. All four captains had reviewed their planned route, but weather always played a factor once aloft. Hopkins’ flight was slightly labored, as he was adjusting to an additional passenger. But he remained in good spirits, and marvelled at the vast expanse of water as they flew along the coast. 

“Anthony -- I should like to be posted somewhere near the ocean. It is so beautiful! Laurens has told me about the many wonderful kinds of fish one can catch as well, and how tasty they can be when properly prepared.” 

Buchanan was less enthused. “There is entirely too much sun and wind for my taste out here. And the sand gets between one’s scales much too easily.” 

At the end of the first day, Rhodes approached Anthony with an unexpected proposal. “Adagatiya Gola is concerned about the long flight ahead and Hopkins having to adjust to an additional crew member. He suggested that perhaps Mister Parker could join us for the journey so as to lighten Hopkins’ load.” 

“That is generous of him to offer,” Anthony responded, “I will make the arrangements.” 

Hopkins was less agreeable, grumbling about how Peter was part of his crew and he was perfectly capable of carrying three men. 

“Of course you are, my dear,” Anthony comforted his companion. “But think of it this way: Adagatiya Gola will be assigned crew members when he becomes part of the Corps, and become accustomed to carrying multiple passengers. Starting now, with someone he knows and trusts is important. It will be a mark in his favor if he arrives at Great Falls with not only his captain, but another aviator as well.” 

“Very well -- but Peter will travel with us at least half of each day.” Minor adjustments to Buchanan’s harness had to be made to allow for the additional rider, but otherwise there was little impact. Peter was happy to oblige, and Rhodes appeared to enjoy the young man’s company, keeping a steady flow of conversation as they flew. 

Peter’s sharp eyes had noted a courier dragon pass them by early in the second day of the trip, and they had half-expected to meet up with them that evening. But the staff at the courier post said they had only stopped for provisions and were continuing south. However, there were two message for Admiral Fury, which he reviewed privately.

Their party arrived at Headquarters late in the afternoon the day before the Council was to meet. They followed the barges sailing placidly through the canals that skirted around the cataracts that gave the covert its name. Hopkins wasn’t impressed, having already seen Niagara Falls, but Anthony found the gorge unexpectedly beautiful. The covert sprawled over both shores of the Potomac, and was abuzz with activity. Commodore Coulson had flown in earlier that day, and was at the landing grounds to greet them with a pleasant surprise. 

“Mother!” Elizabeth shouted in joy as she ran across the meadow. Virginia had scarcely disembarked from Hancock when her daughter threw her arms about her. “Oh, it is so lovely to see you again!” 

“My goodness, Elizabeth, you’re growing like a weed!” Virginia replied, holding her tight and kissing her forehead in return. “Have you been keeping up with your studies? Or gallivanting off on dragonback whenever you have the chance?” 

“Yes, and yes,” Coulson replied, walking out to join their party, “however, she has distinguished herself on both accounts. In fact, I believe Miss Potts has an announcement.” At his words, the girl drew herself up to stand at attention. She pulled an envelope out of her jacket, and walked with a measured pace over to Anthony. 

“Captain Stark, I would like to present my orders. I have been assigned to your crew as ensign.” She bowed, but wore the mask of formality only a moment longer before breaking into a delighted grin. Anthony struggled in turn to keep a straight face for his own reply. 

“Welcome aboard, Miss Potts. You know Midwingman Parker already.” Peter gave an exaggeratedly formal bow, and Elizabeth returned the courtesy, stifling a giggle. “Mister Hogan,” Anthony called for the attention of his second-in-command, who was directing the ground crew in removing Hopkins’ harness. “Lieutenant, may I present Miss Elizabeth Potts. She is our new ensign. Miss Potts, this is Lieutenant Harold Hogan. He joined us at our stop in Long Island earlier this week. He previously served on Chase with Captain Thompson.” 

“I look forward to serving with you, Mister Hogan,” Elizabeth responded, a little more restrained with someone she did not know. 

“And I with you, Miss Potts,” Hogan replied with a nod and a smile. If he was surprised that a girl of her age had already been promoted to ensign, he gave no indication. Anthony had been a little taken aback as well; when he had visited Niagara just over three months ago, she was still a ground cadet, finishing her basic training. But Commodore Coulson apparently held Elizabeth in high enough esteem to put her forward, and Headquarters had agreed. 

“Coulson,” Fury said, joining the group, “we have some material to review before tomorrow’s Council hearing. There has been an interesting development." "I have some pertinent news to share as well. Commodore Sousa, I suggest you join us,” Coulson replied. The three senior officers took their leave. Elizabeth was reacquainting herself with Hopkins, as Peter and the ground crew worked to get the dragons settled. Virginia had secured the assistance of several cadets in doing the same for their human guests. Anthony was shown to guest quarters, and his baggage brought to him. There would be a formal dinner that night and he would be expected to attend. 

At dinner, Anthony learned that Captains Sitwell and Garrett would be serving on the Council. Anthony was concerned about Garrett, fearing it would bode ill for Rhodes and Buchanan, as the captain seemed to hold a dim view of dragons thinking for themselves, rather considering them just another piece of equipment in the military’s arsenal. And while Sitwell had served with Fury, he and Garrett had seemed of much the same cloth, in the brief time Anthony had been acquainted with him around the time of the hatching at Adirondack. 

The hearing was to be held in the same pavilion where Hopkins, Hancock and Buchanan had been assigned the night before. For a degree of privacy, three-quarter height panels had been installed, with the fourth wall left open for the benefit of the dragons, who were permitted to observe, and if called upon, testify. Anthony had been asked to act as scribe for the hearing, so he once again donned his dress uniform and joined his fellow Adirondack aviators as they walked towards the pavilion. 

The hearing started with an introduction of all the parties. In addition to the aviators, Undersecretary Stern, the Corps liaison with the Department of War, was also in attendance. He had taken an interest in the rather unorthodox proceedings, and was invited to sit in and share his observations. The first item on the agenda was a review of Buchanan’s personal history. The Council members referred to the notes from his original trial, and asked several clarifying questions. Buchanan answered to the best of his abilities, after politely requesting that he be addressed as Adagatiya Gola. 

Anthony then took the stand (with Sousa standing in as scribe) to recount the events of his and Hopkins’ first encounter with Buchanan. He emphasized the dragon's lack of aggression towards them, despite being strangers. Hopkins added his comments, and Sousa shared Doctor Banner’s testimony as to the Buchanan's initial condition as well as his potential for recovery. Finally, Lieutenant Rhodes presented his case for recruiting Adagatiya Gola formally into the Corps. 

“May I interject?” Undersecretary Stern spoke. “As you gentlemen are aware, I am here only as an observer. However, I wish to remind you that Congress is currently reviewing the Department of War’s budget and the Aerial Corps is under scrutiny. With that in mind, I believe that a full picture of the situation would not be complete without a reminder of what this dragon is capable of.” 

“Remember, it is a feral beast, bred and raised by savages. An attempt at civilizing it, giving it purpose and direction in our society, only ended with a reversion to its brutal nature. I find it difficult to believe that you would even consider bringing a creature with such dangerous potential into the Corps. Therefore, I would ask the council to consider the testimony of one final witness. May I present Mister B. T. Rumlow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this, and even sorrier that I'm leaving the story on a bit cliffhanger for a while, as I probably won't have another update until mid-August at the earliest. Many thanks, as always to my talented beta, belovedmuerto! 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my muse and make my day - as does coming to say hi over on [ tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polizwrites)


	17. Chapter 17

The man limped into the room, scarred face impassive. Dressed simply in a homespun coat, he walked with a cane, and his left arm hung at an odd angle. He bowed to the Council, and Commodore Phillips motioned for him to be given a seat. Anthony was surprised that Buchanan’s former handler had been called to appear in person. He was also concerned not only that his personal testimony might be able to sway the members of the Council, but that Buchanan himself would have an adverse reaction to his presence. He glanced briefly at the dragons, and noticed that Hopkins had one wing partially extended over Buchanan’s back, as if to shelter him. 

“It seems Undersecretary Stern feels you have something to say that could influence our decision,” Phillips stated. “Admiral Fury and I were both present at the original hearing, and we have revisited the transcripts today. We are well aware of the events of a year ago April, as well as its repercussions.” 

“If it please the Council,” Rumlow responded in a gravelly voice, “I was asked to attend this hearing to remind all in attendance here today that not every dragon is a fit companion for man. That such beasts can turn on their keepers and cause irreparable damage. How, despite my familiarity with the creature, and with seemingly no provocation, he nearly killed me in a matter of moments. No one can dispute the truth of that statement.” 

“But you also are aware of how he was used, and misused, and the events that drove him to such violence. I have since come to regret those actions deeply.” Stern shot Rumlow a poisonous look, but he continued to speak his piece. “I left Pierce’s employ once I recovered from my injuries, and relocated to New York City, where I joined a Quaker community. So, instead of railing against a fellow creature of God who was driven past his breaking point, I instead would like to share a story of bravery and sacrifice.

“Just a few days ago, my dearest friend, Mister John Rollins, was asked to escort his former employer’s son around the city, as he was enrolling at Columbia college. This young man, Robert Pierce, had never seen the ocean before, and was interested in taking a pleasure cruise out into the Sound. My son, Tommy, asked to go along...” 

As Rumlow continued his story, Anthony was stunned. Surely Fate was playing a trick on them, to have placed Buchanan in a position to be the saviour of his former tormentors’ children, and companion. He wrote frantically, attempting to keep up with the testimony.

As he finished his remarks, Rumlow turned and faced Buchanan, who met his gaze steadily. “You knew Rollins. He was my second in command. And, while not your chief persecutor, you had good reason to bear him ill will. Yet you still saved him. And Robert looks so much like his father, you must have recognized him as well.” 

Buchanan nodded gravely. “Yes, I knew them. But a son should not be held responsible for the sins of his father. And as I was given a second chance, by my captain and my friends, I chose to do the same for Rollins.” 

Stern interrupted, “Well, this is all a very fine tale, but the matter still remains that this beast nearly killed Mister Rumlow. It is dangerous and unpredictable; a force we cannot control. This dragon cannot be allowed to have the sanction of the Aerial Corps to fly the skies of our great country freely.”

Admiral Fury stood and addressed Undersecretary Stern. “My good sir, have you ever been in a war? There is not an abundance of control in the middle of a battle. I do not think you know what it feels like to deal with an enemy, to shoot bullets and wield bayonets with blood and screams surrounding you. I do, I have, and I gladly will again, if there is need. Does that make me dangerous, or unpredictable?” Stern blanched under Fury’s unflinching glare. 

“By joining the Corps,” the Admiral continued, “Adagatiya Gola is pledging himself to the defense of our country. I trust that he and his captain have the will and conscience needed to make life and death decisions. I’m not sure I can say the same of you.” 

“I take offence at both your words, and your tone, Admiral,” Stern retorted. “It is a shame your customs do not allow me to demand satisfaction. You aviators have been without adequate oversight for far too long. This will all be going down in my report to the Secretary. I bid you good day.” He stood, gathered his papers and left the pavilion. 

Phillips turned to Rumlow. “We thank you for your testimony, sir. You may go.” Rumlow nodded, rose slowly from his seat, bowed to the Council, and was escorted from the pavilion as well. The Council returned to Headquarters to begin their closed-door session, and as Anthony’s services were no longer needed, he assumed he had the rest of the afternoon to himself. 

The dragons had quite different reactions to the events of the day, which seemed to reflect their personalities. Hopkins was restless, so Anthony suggested a short flight around the covert. But when invited to join them, Buchanan declined, saying he only wanted to find a cool glade down by the river to nap. Rhodes joined his companion, taking a book with him, presumably to occupy his thoughts while they waited. 

Anthony and Hopkins had flown in silence for a mile or so down the river when Hopkins finally spoke, “What will happen if Adagatiya Gola is not allowed into the Corps?” 

“I believe Rhodes will resign his commission. They would then make their own way in the world, possibly going to back to Rhodes’ hometown, and contracting out as a courier, or perhaps even as a porter for hire.” Anthony did not believe the Council would force Buchanan back into the breeding ground, not with Rhodes being so clearly attached to him. However, dragons were still a fairly unusual sight outside of the military and would not necessarily be welcome beyond their purview. 

“But Virginia is a slave state, is it not? And what if a slaver tried to hire them to carry his captives? Surely they would refuse...” Hopkins sounded quite concerned over the fate of his friends. “Perhaps they could go to New England and become Yankee traders, like John Wampanoag!” 

Hopkins had first learned of this independent dragon merchant from Will Laurence’s memoirs, which described a meeting between Temeraire and Wampanoag in Japan. The Native lightweight had partnered with two men in Salem, Massachusetts to start a trading company that traveled the world, and had become fairly wealthy as a result. Anthony had recently read an article about the singular dragon tradesman, still in business after 25 years, to Hopkins, who had then expressed a desire to meet Wampanoag someday. 

“I’m not sure either of our friends have the temperament to be traders,” Anthony replied, imagining Buchanan’s response to haggling. “Besides, it requires a good deal of capital to invest in the initial trade goods.” 

“What is ‘capital’?” Hopkins inquired.

“Well, capital is money. Or land and other property that can be converted to money. Rhodes will have whatever he’s saved from his military pay, of course, but I don’t think that would be enough.” 

“Anthony, I will offer them my capital, surely that would help.” Hopkins had insisted in taking his pay in coins, carefully hoarding them in a lockbox in the shared pavilion at Adirondack. Anthony had tried unsuccessfully to convince him to open a bank account, but the idea of earning interest did not outweigh the immediate appeal of being able to see and touch the gold and silver discs. 

“That is a very kind offer, my dear. But I think our friends would be too proud to accept the gift. Besides, that is your money to do with as you please-- such as buy something nice for yourself, like a chain or a medallion.” 

“Oh,” Hopkins replied, sounding a little taken aback. “I thought one had to earn decorations in battle or by other acts of bravery. That’s why the older dragons like Hancock and Lafayette have such splendid things.” 

Anthony was chagrined to realize Hopkins once again was measuring himself against the other dragons and, through no fault of his own, finding himself wanting. Anthony deserved the brunt of the blame; he should have wondered why his companion never asked after the baubles and gewgaws that it seemed every other dragon coveted. 

“Well, yes, there are certain decorations awarded through the Corps, but many of the other dragons own and wear jewelry simply because they like it. I am sorry I did not think to ask you earlier, dearest one,” Anthony apologized. “I would make you something myself, had I the time and the facilities. Alas, we must rely on the skill of another. Perhaps you would like something similar to Lafayette’s fleur de lis medallion, or Franklin’s key necklace?” 

Hopkins was silent for a moment, apparently giving the matter some thought. “While those are quite lovely, I should like something a bit more simple. A silver circle medallion, perhaps with a star.” 

“Very well, Let us return to the pavilion and I’ll sketch something out and go into town tomorrow.” 

Admiral Phillips made the announcement regarding Adagatiya Gola that evening. The decision was three to two to declare him fit for duty on a provisional basis, and promote Lieutenant Rhodes to captain, also conditionally. Commodore Sousa and Hancock agreed to take a supervisory role over the the pair for the next three months. 

Anthony spoke with his new lieutenant about the decision after dinner. “I’m not surprised it was close,” Hogan replied. “Garrett and Sitwell were the obvious dissenters. Neither of them ever should have been aviators to start with. Rumor has it that Sitwell spoils Tallmadge horribly; but not like a favored child... more like a dog he’s afraid would be vicious otherwise. His dragon will be quite unmanageable in the heat of battle if he keeps that up.”

“I’ve seen ample evidence that there’s no love lost between Burr and Garrett -- I can’t imagine either of them making sacrifices for the other.” Anthony added, “I honestly wasn’t sure how Phillips would decide. While I understand he participated in the original trial, the Admiral has the greater reputation of the Corps to think about. Stern is obviously going to make trouble for us all, after Fury dressed him down so.”

“Which is probably why Adagatiya Gola is being placed under Sousa’s watchful eye for the time being, as he and Hancock have already been assigned to make a tour of the western coverts, far away from so-called civilization. A rather neat outflanking maneuver, in my opinion.” Anthony quite agreed, and they shifted their conversation to more pleasant matters for the rest of the evening. 

 

“But Captain, I don’t know if I can even source the quantity of material needed to create what you’re asking for-- and the cost would be prohibitive.” The man had been recommended to Anthony as a skilled artisan, accustomed to crafting jewelry for dragons. But even his expertise was being challenged by Anthony’s request. 

“Here’s a draft on the First National Bank of New York. You’ll find I’m good for it,” he replied brusquely. Stane would not be pleased; but since Anthony was pulling from his own funds, and not the company’s, he could do nothing about it. 

The craftsman stared down at the piece of paper, taken aback at both the name and the amount inscribed on it. “Well, now, Mister Stark... I’ll certainly do my best to accommodate your request.” He peered more closely at the drawings Anthony had provided. “What is the purpose of the circular ridges?” 

“They will provide more structural integrity, allowing you to use a thinner gauge to start with.” Anthony glanced around the man’s workshop. “You’ll need higher quality coal-- even though the metal melts at a lower temperature than iron, it is easily contaminated....” He found himself spending the rest of the afternoon with the craftsman, walking him through the process for creating the piece he was commissioning. 

“I realize this will not be done in a day, good sir, even once you get the materials. But I hope you will give it proper priority. Our next destination is the Knoxville covert, and from there, Vincennes. Once you’re done, send it via courier and bill me for the delivery.” Before leaving the shop, Anthony selected a thick silver chain that would eventually bear the medallion, not bothering to bargain with the merchant.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony reflects on his company's stay at the Knoxville covert, where Rhodes and Adagatiya Gola gained a new crewmate. In Vincennes, they meet up with an old friend to receive a package and news that will impact their continuing assignment.

The less said about their time in Knoxville, the better. Officially known as the Fort Loudon Covert, it was no larger than Adirondack, despite being responsible for three or four times the territory, and not well equipped. Their pavilions were only recently constructed and poorly built; the roof on the guest pavilion leaked. They stretched canvas across the roof and off to either side of the pavilion in order to keep all three of their dragons at least somewhat protected from the early autumn rain. The resident dragons were unaccustomed to visitors and ranged from skittish to belligerent, with their captains and crew also being less than sociable. 

Anthony suspected that Adagatiya Gola’s presence had something to do with that. After all, it was this covert that should have intervened when Pierce stole him from the local Natives. Perhaps their guilt and shame was expressing itself as standoffishness. Mind you, everyone was civil, and he had no real complaints as to the reception they had received, including the proper courtesies having been given to Commodore Sousa. However, it was clear that the local aviators would be more happy to see their party go than they were to have them arrive. 

To compound the difficulties, the day before they were scheduled to leave for Vincennes, another visitor had arrived. Garrett claimed it was only coincidence that he and Burr had been sent on a temporary assignment to this frontier outpost, but Anthony had his doubts. Again, he managed the basic pleasantries, but otherwise avoided the man. 

The one bright spot had been the addition to their group. Upon their arrival, Sousa delivered the sealed courier pouch to the local commander, Senior Captain Masters, and met with him for a good portion of the afternoon. After the meeting, Sousa asked Anthony and Rhodes to join him for a quiet talk. 

“Tensions are high between the settlers and the natives. Masters recommends that we travel armed from now on. He’s sending one of his riflemen with us for the rest of our tour. I’m assigning him to you, Rhodes, if you think Adagatiya Gola would be amenable.” 

“I believe so, sir.” 

That afternoon, a stocky, fair-haired man dressed in buckskin and followed by a piebald mongrel approached the pavilion. “I’m looking for Captain Rhodes and Adagatiya Gola.” He’d pronounced the dragon’s name perfectly; even with months of practice, Anthony still couldn’t get the sound quite right. 

“They’re out flying at the moment. Can I help you? I’m Anthony Stark, of Hopkins.” He held out his hand to the man, who took it in a firm, calloused grip. 

“Clinton Barton, but my friends call me Hawkeye. This is Lucky.” The dog sat, and reached out a paw. Anthony chuckled, and greeted the dog as well. Barton continued, “I’ve been assigned to your formation as a rifleman. I understand you’re touring the western coverts?” 

“That’s correct. Have you met Commodore Sousa yet? He’d be the man to talk with.”

“Not yet. Just got back from a scouting trip myself. Barely had time to brush the dust from my boots before Masters gave me my new assignment.” 

“Anthony? Who are you talking to?” Hopkins poked his nose around the wall of the pavilion; he had been napping after their morning exercise session. 

“Hopkins, this is Clinton Barton. He will be joining us for the rest of our travels around the western coverts. Mister Barton, this is Hopkins.” Barton walked over to the open side of the pavilion to get a better look at the dragon. 

“Aren’t you a handsome fellow -- and what a wingspan!” he said admiringly. Hopkins stepped out into the open so he could show off a little and the dog caught his attention. He peered down at Lucky, who was not only unafraid of the dragon, but instead seemed to want to play, wagging his its tail and bounding around. 

Hopkins then cocked his head in their direction. “This is a dog, isn’t it, Anthony? I thought you said they didn’t care for dragons.” 

“Generally, they don’t.” Anthony was mildly baffled. It was common wisdom that canines and dragons didn’t mix. 

“Lucky thinks he is a dragon, or that dragons are dogs; I’ve never been sure which.” Barton explained. “He grew up at a hatching ground and played with the baby dragonets as a pup. He loves to go flying; even has his own harness. But most of the dragons here won’t let me take him up.” 

Barton sat with them at dinner and told them a little about himself. He’d been adopted by a Native tribe when he was a boy, and spoke several of their languages fluently, including the local dialect of Cherokee. However, he’d spent most of the last half-decade exploring further west, into the Missouri and Arkansas territories and had just recently returned to Tennessee. The covert had recruited him, but Anthony sensed some tension, and not just because he was an outsider. 

Their new rifleman was also quite skilled with a bow: “I never miss what I’m aiming at,” he stated, so matter-of-factly you could hardly accuse him of bragging. In fact, his affability and light-hearted nature made him instantly likeable. By the end of the evening, he already felt like a member of their team. 

He had even managed to get on Adagatiya Gola’s good side, addressing him in his native tongue upon their meeting. The dragon was less amenable to Lucky, who seemed oblivious to the animosity. Hopkins, however, had been charmed by the mongrel, and the next morning, asked Anthony if Barton and Lucky could go flying with them. 

The dog knew exactly what the harness meant, and whined excitedly as Barton put it on him. “If you would, Hopkins, please stretch your front leg out so Lucky can hop aboard,” he asked. The dragon did so, and in three bounds, Lucky was standing proudly on the dragon’s back, waiting patiently for one of the aviators to latch his carabiners to the harness. 

Elizabeth had met Barton at dinner the night before, and was then introduced to Lucky. The young ensign had fallen in love with the dog almost immediately. “What a handsome boy you are, all dapples and dots!” She’d gotten down on her knees to embrace him, and Lucky wiggled with joy. So she scrambled up next and made sure Lucky was secure. Barton and Anthony then assumed their positions, and they were off, up into the sky. 

On their journey from Great Falls to Knoxville, Sousa had recommended swapping around their crew members between the dragons. The dragons grumbled a bit, being quite possessive of their crews, but eventually became accustomed to new voices responding to orders and adjusted to different crew members climbing about their harness. It also gave the aviators a chance to get to know each other better and widen their skill sets. 

Of course the three captains continued to ride with their companions, but Anthony was more than happy to have Virginia flying with him on occasion. Theirs wasn’t the only romance among the crew of the three dragons, either. Midwingman Simmons was an addition to Sousa’s crew that had joined them in Great Falls, and seemed quite taken with her fellow midwingman Fitz. 

Elizabeth also appreciated being able to spend time with her mother, whether on Hopkins or Hancock, but always made sure to attend to her duties. Midwingman Parker took advantage of the opportunity to gain experience crewing on a middleweight and could often be found clambering around mid-flight or in animated discussion with another crewmate. 

Sousa estimated that Hopkins was nearly full-grown by late summer. At about twelve tons, he was straddling the range between lightweights and middleweights, but as Hancock was one of the larger middleweights in the Corps, she was at least half again his weight and twice his length. Both her size and her age made her the natural leader among the dragons. 

Hopkins and Adagatiya Gola were nearly of a size now; although their conformations differed considerably. Due to his large wings, Hopkins’ shoulders and chest were massive; Adagatiya Gola was more sleek, with a longer body and tail. Both could carry a crew of at least five, but as they were traveling long distances, they normally only had three men and their captain riding with them at any one time. 

Anthony still made a practice of reading to Hopkins during their long flights, although he often assigned the task to Ensign Potts, to ensure she was keeping up with her education. He’d also put her in charge of confirming their route at the end of each day, which gave her plenty of practice with map and compass reading, as well as mathematics. 

It had taken them three full days’ flight to travel from Knoxville to Vincennes. Barton’s sharp eyes assisted the dragons in finding quarry while on the wing, and his skill with the bow and rifle provided the aviators with fresh meat when they stopped for the night. Usually within an hour or so, he and Lucky had flushed out enough game to provide for the entire party. Barton’s stories also enlivened their evenings around the fire. Vincennes was another frontier outpost, although it seemed both better-organized and more welcoming to guests. In fact, a familiar face greeted them as they landed.

“Thought I might find you fellows here,” Captain Lang called out across the meadow. “I’ve been assigned to the western courier loop through the end of the year. Knowlton has a bit of news she’d like to share.” Sousa excused himself to meet with Senior Captain Radcliffe, the local commander, but the rest of the party followed Lang to the guest pavilion, where his dragon was curled up and drowsing. “Knowlton, dear - our friends have finally arrived.” 

She blinked slowly, then stretched out languorously. “It’s about time. You didn’t spoil my surprise, did you, Scott?” 

“Of course not,” he replied warmly, stroking her side. “Go right ahead.” 

“Laurens and I are having an egg together,” she stated smugly, then stared pointedly at both Hopkins and Adagatiya Gola in turn. “Since neither of you were willing to oblige me.” Anthony stifled a laugh as Hopkins looked mildly confused. As for Adagatiya Gola, well, if dragons could blush, it seemed he would have done so. 

“Congratulations!” Hancock responded, “I hope you’ll be returning to Adirondack in time to lay the egg. It is one of the best hatching grounds we have, besides Great Falls. I had three eggs there and they all turned out beautifully.” The two of them soon fell into conversation, and man and dragon alike quietly withdrew. 

“I have some less pleasant news as well,” Lang said after getting both Anthony and Rhodes’ attention. “Sousa will be asked to come back east to the Niagara covert, as Coulson has had an accident. He’s going to recover, but will be unable to perform his duties for the next several months. Radcliffe has the courier pouch and it contains the details. You and Rhodes are to continue your tour of the frontier coverts.” Anthony was stunned, but quickly started planning out how best to reapportion the supplies between Hopkins and Adagatiya Gola, as well as confirming which members of their crews would continue the tour with them. 

“Lastly, there’s a package for you, Stark,” Lang mentioned as they walked away from the pavilion. “However, if this is the present for Hopkins that you wrote about, I believe you’ve been cheated. It’s much too light for its size. The craftsman may have plated a piece of wood.” 

He pulled it out from a cabinet in the barracks. Wrapped in brown paper, the package was nearly three feet across and unwieldy. Anthony took it from Lang, and hefted it. The craftsman had apparently followed his instructions, as the weight seemed just about right. 

“No, I believe it’s exactly what I asked for,” he replied. Anthony, joined by Rhodes, whose curiosity had been piqued, carried it outside. Hopkins had found a sunny spot in the clearing between the pavilions and was basking. “I have a gift for you, my dear.” 

“Oh! May I open it now?” His eyes were alight with surprise and pleasure. Anthony nodded and Hopkins carefully picked at the string and paper. The medallion was almost the size of a breastplate, formed as a shallow bowl instead of a flat circle, both to increase its strength and allow it to fit closer to Hopkins’ body. The white enameled star in the center was surrounded by alternating rings of red and blue and bare, silvery metal. 

“It is so light, Anthony! Surely this isn’t iron, or nickel.” Hopkins picked it up in his talons to hold it against his chest, where the silver chain Anthony had gifted him with a month ago already lay. 

“You are quite observant, Hopkins. It is an alloy; primarily of a new metal called aluminum. It is much lighter than either iron or nickel, but quite strong. It should look quite handsome on you.” 

“Please help me put it on, Anthony!” Anthony took the chain off Hopkins, then threaded it through the holes in the medallion. It was designed to also connect with the harness, so it would not hang loosely during flight. Anthony placed the chain back around Hopkins’ neck, and stepped back to take a good look. It suited him well, the colors blending with his own.

“Oh, I can’t wait for Knowlton, Hancock and Adagatiya Gola to see it! Perhaps if I go down to the pond, I can see my reflection! Oh, thank you, thank you, Anthony! It is a lovely gift.” 

“And a well-deserved one, dearest. Now go show your friends.” He watched his companion pad back into the pavilion and heard him greet his fellow dragons excitedly. 

Anthony could scarcely believe that not even a year had passed since Hopkins came into his life. Last September, he would never have imagined that in less than twelve months he would find himself nearly a thousand miles away from home, with several new friends, a lover and -- most importantly -- a steadfast companion in the form of a dozen-ton dragon upon whom he had just spent over a year’s salary. But it had been a grand adventure and he didn’t regret a moment of it. He found himself whistling under his breath as he returned to the barracks to spend the rest of the evening with his fellow aviators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we bid adieu to Anthony and Hopkins and all their friends and fellow aviators, at least for now. I do have some broad-stroke ideas for a possible sequel, but other projects have caught my fancy in the meanwhile. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who joined me along the way for this rather odd mashup - special thanks and many kudos to my wonderful beta, belovedmuerto!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's a bizarre crossover, but damnit, I'm having fun with it. If you are too - leave a comment or come say hello over on [ Tumblr](http://poliz-writes.tumblr.com/)!


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